


Omega Protection Services

by appalachian_fireflies



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, Dehumanization, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Kink, Multi, Omega/Omega, Other, Sexual Slavery, Snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4819154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appalachian_fireflies/pseuds/appalachian_fireflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where omegas are considered little more than cattle, Logan has hidden himself away, passing as his deceased beta brother.  His number's about to be up.  </p><p>(This is a repost, all chapters posted simultaneously)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a repost bc I'm sick today and thought i'd bring back some old content-it's unbeta'd, apologies for potential errors and/or awkwardness
> 
> The hurt with a little comfort is in the first half, full on comfort in the second half, and more emotionally fulfilling sex in the final chapter & in the fourth chapter (though there's...quite a lot of fucking throughout)

The Omega Protection Services van had a distinctive whirr and rattle; soft, innocuous to anyone who wasn’t listening for it with a hypervigiliance that had Logan’s palms sweating. They’d come for him. 

Logan had first heard the OPS van when he was five years old, still blissfully unaware of what it meant to be an omega, except that it wasn’t something you talked about with people who weren’t family. He’d been walking along the side of the road barefoot with his mom, kicking at gravel. She was in one of her big flowered summer dresses, and she’d pulled him close as it passed by. He’d looked up at her face in the bright blue sky and pressed closer, fisting his hands in her dress. 

He’d never seen his mama so afraid, and the world had been less safe after that. He became acutely aware that having indoor and outdoor plumbing meant something bad. His mom had said that he should be proud of being an omega, that he was rare and special, that he’d have healthier kids than alpha or beta females. She even said a bad word when he told her one of the alphas at school had said omegas in heat were _needy bitches_. Then she’d called his classmate an _alpha knothead,_ which Logan thought was hilarious. She’d laughed with him, but her smile was stretched tight. 

The fear in her grew over the years; she was always asking him if he was taking his suppressants, making sure he told his friends he was a beta. She said they’d take him away from her, that if he trusted the wrong person she wouldn’t be able to protect him. She’d look at him, her eyes wide and serious, wait until he promised to be careful. 

Now he could hear the OPS van from a mile away; he didn’t know what it was that made it so distinctive, maybe some kind of equipment they kept in the back portion with the wide double doors, but he always heard it coming. Logan’d keep his pace, walk nice and easy as the van passed him by. He’d always pray his thanks afterwards that it hadn’t been for him, that he’d been spared another day.

A couple years ago, down in the town, he’d seen an omega- a girl, maybe in her late teens, someone he’d seen on the streets a few days before asking for some change to travel- getting hustled into the back of the van. She was hollerin’ something terrible, kicking out at the men and women in uniform trying to hold her, and Logan had frozen to the spot.

A man in one of the black uniforms, the shiny metal of the OPS on his chest, stuck a needle in the side of her neck. The girl went limp, her head lolling on the officer’s shoulder. Logan felt guiltily relieved that the screaming had stopped; it had pierced him where he’d thought he’d gotten adjusted to the way things were, and he’d never felt more helpless as he stood there watching her last fight.

A woman next to him chuckled, and Logan turned. His blood ran cold. She was in black uniform, OPS insignia glinting proudly on her chest. “It’s always the street trash that puts up the biggest fuss,” she smiled, shaking her head, and Logan just barely stopped himself from flinching. “It’s the bitches that run away from home that think they’re special, outside of the system.”

Logan laughed with her. He wanted to vomit. “Well,” he drawled, “that bitch’ll be taught her place real soon.” He winked. “Good fuck’ll hush her up, ‘less she’s the begging kind.” The woman clapped her hand on his shoulder, then moved back to the scene at the van.

Logan had locked himself in the house for two days after that, jumping at shadows. He’d cried like he hadn’t since his mama and baby brother’d died and left him with his drunk as shit pop.

So when the Omega Protection Services came in on a spring day when he was 19, the sound of the van filtering through the gentle tapping of the rain on his windowsill, Logan knew his number was up. He grabbed his backpack, which he’d had prepared since his mama died. He jammed his feet into his sneakers, and didn’t tie the laces. There wasn’t time. There wasn’t time.

He slipped out of his back window, slid down the side of the house, and made a break for the woods. His heart beat wildly. He was prey now. He had once chance. He sprinted blindly, and a wide, muscular body collided with his.

 _No!_ he thought, frantic but too terrified to get words out. _No, no, no._ He kicked out blindly, gasping for breath. The man tackled him to the ground, his large body pressing Logan down, suffocating him. “Shh,” the man whispered, his breath in Logan’s ear. Logan felt the prick of the needle in the side of his neck, and he went limp, compliant. The man picked him up easily and carried him back to the house.

A woman with a file in her hands, her suit crisp and hair done up in a tight bun, was talking to his father. His pop stood leaning against the doorjamb, pale and unsteady. The woman heard him enter and turned, her red lipstick smile widening, shark-like. “Ah, Logan,” she said happily. “Glad we caught you.”

“Was my brother,” Logan slurred. “’M not Logan. ‘M Ray. Ray Palmer.”

“Mhm,” the woman tutted, and moved toward him, thick heels clacking on the linoleum. She grabbed his chin, and he whimpered. “There there,” she said, stroking her finger over a large bruise on his cheekbone. “A concerned neighbor reported your father for suspected abuse,” she said, her tone saccharine, “and that prompted the state to take a look at your family's records. There is reason to suspect your father has been harboring an unregistered omega.” She smiled, dropping her hand. “And we have good reason to believe that omega is you, sweet thing.”

“’M a beta,” he said, trying for outrage and shivering in the grasp of the man holding him. The woman leaned in, pressing her nose to Logan’s bonding gland at the join of his neck and jaw. She inhaled deeply. “Synthetic beta pheremones, I presume,” she said primly. “We might as well be sure, I suppose. Robert,” she addressed the hulking man carrying Logan, “pull down the boy’s pants.” Logan felt the man’s hand pawing at the fastening on his jeans as his body was draped over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he squawked, trying to move away. The man stilled him with one large palm on his lower back and tugged Logan’s pants down and off. The woman spread Logan’s thighs and Logan flushed, humiliated. He felt two thin fingers move behind his balls to part the tight lips of his vagina. The fingers moved away, and his boxers were pulled back up with a firm pat to his bottom. He was allowed to turn now as much as his drugged, uncoordinated body was able, and he sat on the couch.

“If you tell us any more lies,” the woman said, turning to his father, “we will record them. Your sentence will be less harsh if you choose to cooperate. Now,” she smiled. “This boy is your son, Logan Palmer, yes?”

His father looked down. He nodded.

“I assume you covered for the boy after his brother died in a car accident with his mother, passing him off as his beta brother?” the woman prompted. His father nodded.

“Pop, please,” Logan whispered. He knew that his dad had only protected him because it’d been what his mother would have wanted, and though his dad spared little love for his omega son, he’d loved Logan’s mother dearly. His father turned away.

The officer picked Logan up, hoisting his small, thin body over his shoulder. “No, no,” Logan moaned. “’M a beta.” It’d been what he’d told himself ‘till he believed it, his conviction persuading more than one bully. But it was over, now. All that hiding for nothing. His dreams to finish college, to leave this shit town in Nowhere, Appalachia were dead now.

The man carried him to the open van, ignoring Logan’s weakly beating fists on his back. Logan was set down and cuffed. The man that’d carried him looked bored, but the officer that’d been waiting in the back of the van smiled. The back doors shut, and the van started up. The sound straight from his nightmares. He only knew rumors, whispers of what the OPS did to the omegas unlucky enough to fall into their hands- the undesirables, the unregistered, the homeless and the impoverished. But he’d heard the rumors enough times to know they had to be mostly true. He started crying. His chance at life was over. No one had ever escaped the OPS.

“Aw, don’t be like that baby,” the man that’d been waiting in the back of the van rumbled. The man moved over to Logan and he froze, terrified.

“Shh,” the man said, stroking his fingers down Logan’s torso then dipping them under the waistband of his boxers. The man stroked his limp cock, and Logan squirmed away. Fingers reached under Logan’s cock and squeezed his balls in retaliation. “Better enjoy these while you can, pretty bitch,” he crooned. The man dragged his teeth over Logan’s neck and slid his fingers behind his balls to Logan's entrance, stroking.

“Think I can make the boy wet?” the man said, smiling to his large, silent companion. The man grunted.

“Bet no alpha ever touched you, touched your little virgin cunt,” the man whispered in his ear.

“Men,” the woman’s came over the intercom, “you’ve had your fun, we can’t have him damaged before medical gets their hands on him.”

The man pulled his fingers out of Logan’s pants. “Fine,” he huffed, and moved back to sit next to the other officer. Logan sat in shock, his mind blank. He had no idea how much time had passed when they’d finally driven to the compound, deep in the mountains and surrounded by cruelly spiked barbed wire.

“Welcome home, honey,” the officer said with a grunt. The van doors opened.

 

***

Logan sat in the little plastic chair of the waiting room of the medical wing, the hulking officer sitting silently next to him, spilling out of his chair. The room was painted floor to ceiling in that omnipresent shade of medical office blue. The wall opposite him was lined with pamphlets, propaganda about the proper place of omegas, biological essentialism wed in an unholy marriage to thinly veiled religious mores.

“Omega Breeding” had an expecting omega mother on the front cover, smiling down at her round belly, and explained why children borne by omegas were genetically favorable. Omegas could process and reshape faulty DNA in their wombs, and omega-born children tended to be larger and healthier on average, if the omega had been bred by an alpha or a beta. Preferably an alpha male, whose larger penis could knot an omega during heat, keeping their copious amounts of sperm deep inside the omega’s vaginal canal. An omega breeding another omega was considered a perversion, and potentially grounds for an otherwise illegal abortion.

Another pamphlet declared itself the authority on the “History of Itinerant Omega Populations: Past and Present.” That’d be some bullshit about how the Omega Laws had saved poor, helpless omegas from the brutality of the streets, and reintegrated them into society in their proper role as valued breeders. An omega male kneeling in a dirty alley looked up at an OPS officer on the cover, clasping his hand.

“Logan Palmer?” a nurse called out. Logan’s pulse leapt, and his hands shook. “Here,” grunted his officer disinterestedly.

“Ah,” the nurse smiled at him, “come this way, Logan.” Her voice seemed odd to him, too detached, routine. It probably was, for her. She turned, and the officer stood and pushed Logan to his feet, giving him a shove on the back that almost knocked him over. Logan stumbled after the nurse, and the officer followed. The woman moved into an examination room.

“Ok,” the woman said easily, patting the table next to her, padded metal, outfitted with stirrups. He swallowed. “We’re going to start with an exam. It’s unlikely you’ve had one before, which is worrisome, at your age, but I’ll guide you through it.” She looked him over with a glance. “Strip,” she ordered. 

Logan stood still. The nurse clucked.

“Come, now. I can have the officer strip you if you refuse,” she warned. Logan flushed, stripping to his boxers.

“Everything off,” said the nurse, smiling condescendingly. Logan flushed to the tips of his ears and pulled his boxers off. He’d never been nude in front of anyone before, least of all an alpha and a beta. The nurse smiled and took his boxers, laying them atop the rest of his clothing. Another nurse entered and took the small pile of clothing away.

Logan stood awkwardly, his dick hanging limp between his legs, painfully aware of his thin frame with the feminine curves that marked him as a male omega- the soft line of his hips, the small fatty curve of his chest.

“What a beautiful boy you are,” the nurse crooned, and Logan could feel himself bristling, even as he felt a surge of warmth at the praise. “Hop up on that scale for me, please,” she pointed. She marked down his weight and height. “You’re an average weight and height for a male omega your age,” she announced. Logan stepped off of the scale.

“Ok, up on the table so we can get a look at you, legs in the stirrups,” she said, clinical. Logan looked down, avoiding her gaze. He just couldn’t. The nurse frowned at him, and sighed.

“Don’t make trouble for yourself here,” she warned. “Put him up,” she told the officer.

The man’s hands clasped Logan around his waist and hoisted him on the cold metal bench, then cupped Logan’s ass as he settled him into the groove. The suddenness of the movement and the cold made Logan yelp. The man grabbed one wrist at a time, strapping and buckling them into the bench. Logan fought on instinct, then the officer fastened the wide leather collar clipped to the headrest over Logan’s neck, and Logan lay still, panting.

The officer pulled at one of Logan’s ankles, small in the man’s palm, and moved it into the stirrup, buckling it in tightly. Then he grasped the other firmly, spreading Logan’s legs uncomfortably wide, his knees bent slightly, putting his holes on display for ease of access.

“There, that’s perfect,” the nurse praised, patting her hand comfortingly on Logan’s thigh. The rapid switch of tactics had him reeling. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and uncapped a tube of lubricant. Logan shut his eyes, but it only made the sensation of the cold press of her lubed fingers between his legs more intense. He opened his eyes, and saw her glancing at a chart.

“Omega male, nineteen years old, date of first heat unknown,” she announced to a recording device in her palm. The cold tips of her thumb and pointer finger moved over his balls, pressing. “Confirmed intact. Penis is of average size for an omega, about three inches in length flaccid.” Logan flushed.

She leaned down, and stroked her lubed fingers gently over his vaginal lips, which had tightened in fear and discomfort, closing his hole. She tutted.

“Vulva shows no sign of infection or abnormalities, though the omega is not responding properly to either stimulation or the presence of an alpha. Hormone suppressants suspected, note to test for which type. Heat induction in addition to required hormone implants recommended soon to restart the boy’s cycle and increase natural lubrication.”

“Just relax, sweetheart,” the woman said warmly, pressing in soothing motions over his entrance. “Open up for me, nice and easy.” A tear trickled down Logan’s cheek, which mortified him, but he was unable to wipe it away. “Oh, sweet boy,” the nurse crooned, “we’ll make you better soon, don’t worry. Nice, deep breath for me.” Logan breathed in, gasping a little sob. 

The nurse’s finger pressed more firmly at his opening, demanding entrance. She pressed inward, and despite the lubrication, it hurt. He gasped. She felt around the inner ring of his walls. “The roughness of the vaginal canal indicates that the omega is a virgin or at least has never been properly bred, and the light pink color of his inner ring indicates that he has not taken a knot. Suspect that the omega may have never actually been through a heat, and been on suppressants from a young age. Shows discomfort with routine handing of the genitals. Will now insert the speculum.”

Logan felt the press of something wide, wider than the woman’s finger, against his front hole, slippery with lubricant, and he panicked, hyperventilating.

“The omega is distressed by the procedure. Earlier speculations seem likely.” The nurse rubbed the skinny dip of Logan’s belly, and across the slight curve at the bottom.

“Shh,” she instructed, rubbing her hand in warm, rhythmic circles, “just breathe for me, nice and steady.” The speculum pressed firmly at Logan’s entrance, and he began crying around the short, panicked breaths he was taking.

“I know it hurts a bit, it’ll be in soon,” the nurse said kindly. He felt it stretch his entrance, and the pain made him convinced he would tear, that he couldn’t stretch any further to fit it. “You’re ok." The speculum slid in steadily, cruelly, forcing the searing pain of the stretch deeper.

“All in,” the nurse announced, patting his belly. “Don’t worry, once you’re off those suppressants this’ll all be a lot more natural for you.” As if that made it better, as if she were helping him. 

Logan hiccuped, exhausted and miserable. The nurse began opening the speculum, and he whined in pain, a high pitched omegan sound of distress. “Oh, you poor boy,” the nurse soothed. She leaned in between his legs. “Vaginal canal looks normal, no infections or other points of concern. The boy’s cervix looks healthy and fertile.”  
“You should be grateful for that,” the nurse said, aside.

“Why?” Logan asked bitterly.

“We don’t have much use for destitute, skill-less omega boys who are unable to breed,” she replied sternly. “And we can’t allow these boys to be a burden on society. You should be thankful those suppressants you were given don’t seem to have harmed you permanently.”

Logan thought over her words, horrified. Despite everything, he didn’t want to die. Not yet.

“Inserting scope,” said the nurse. Logan felt a sharp, painful point of pressure on a sensitive area deep inside him, and he gave a short shout of pain. “Scope inserted,” the nurse reported. “Reproductive tract seems healthy and fully functional,” she said after a few moments.

She pulled the scope out, then the speculum, and Logan turned away, wanting to curl on his side and grasp his aching belly, to relieve the sharp pain deep inside him.

The woman uncapped the lubricant again, and cold fingers pressed against his anus. He groaned. “This is the last of the tough part, honey,” the nurse said. “Push out when my finger presses in,” she instructed, and Logan obeyed, struck by the strangeness of the lubed digit pressing itself inside him.

His ass was tight, but it didn’t have the protective ability to tighten itself against penetration the way his vagina did. A second finger inserted itself, and the stretch burned. He winced, staring at the ceiling. The nurse brushed against something sensitive just inside his anus, and Logan thrust his hips forward involuntarily, his penis twitching against his stomach.

“Stimulation of the prostate rapidly results in sexual excitation. Note for training,” the nurse noted. “Anus seems normal and fairly pliant despite the omega’s discomfort with the procedures.” The nurse patted his bottom, withdrawing her fingers, and Logan sighed with relief. “There’s a good boy,” she said.

She stood and shuffled over to a cabinet, withdrawing a tray of sharps. She inserted one into his forearm, and capped off several vials of blood. “Well done,” she praised after she withdrew the needle, pressing a bandage to the spot.

She pressed his stomach. “No unusual hardness. Skin is healthy, no concerns with skeletal deformations.” She pulled up his lips, then pressed firmly on his jaw, forcing it open. “Teeth seem healthy, no abnormalities in the boy’s mouth and throat.” She pressed two fingers to the back of his throat, and he gagged. “Sensitive gag reflex.”

She shined a light into his eyes. “Pupillary response normal. Ears,” she shined the light into each, “normal.”

The nurse unbuckled the collar. “Bonding glands unmarked.” She grasped the back of his neck firmly, and hummed, frowning. “Unresponsive to neck hold. Will likely improve when suppressants have left his system and normal functioning has returned.”

“Alright, Logan, you’re done here for now,” the nurse smiled. She checked his chart. “Castration of the omega male scheduled in two hours with Dr. Howard,” she said, nodding at the officer and flipping the chart closed. Logan panicked.

 

***

“Hush,” said the nurse. “It’s not so bad as all that fuss. It’s a very simple surgery. Dr. Howard’s done it a thousand times.” 

Logan struggled at his bonds. “No, please,” he whimpered.

“Can we just knock him out?” the officer asked, annoyed.

The nurse hummed, shook her head. “No, not this close to the surgery, I’m afraid. You’re going to have to get him over to the surgery wing, we’re done here.” She turned and left, her bright pink sneakers squeaking on the waxed floor.

The guard unbuckled him, and Logan made a break for it. The guard dragged him back around the waist and hoisted Logan over his shoulder completely nude, kicking and screaming. He carried Logan into the hallway, where nurses frowned at Logan, shaking their heads.

Logan continued beating his fists and kicking. He tried to bite the guard, and the man cuffed Logan upside the head, dazing him.

He kept shouting and fighting all the way to the next waiting room, filled with the same small plastic chairs, the same wall of pamphlets. A boy, maybe a year older than Logan, shivered in his chair next to another guard, wrapping his arms around his nude body protectively.

The guard sat Logan down in one of the seats, and Logan tried to fight his way out. The guard moved one hand to push him down in the seat. Logan repeated the motion six times before he finally stayed put. There was no way he would get out like this.

He had to think. The door to the room had locked shut behind them, and the other door led to the surgery. There were no windows, and even if he did escape, there were whatever levels of security the facility had within the fence that would keep him inside. He trembled.

A nurse entered, and Logan looked up, terrified. “Kyle Jaxson?” she read from her chart. The boy across the way shook, clenching the edge of his chair. His guard hoisted him to his feet, pushing him firmly forward, and the boy took shaky steps towards the nurse. The boy and his guard disappeared through the swinging door.

The room was quiet. Logan could hear the clock ticking, drowning out his thoughts. He had to think, he thought in a daze. He couldn’t let this happen. There had to be a way out, if only he could think. The guard read a magazine. Then another.

“Logan Palmer?” the nurse called out. Logan trembled like a leaf. He couldn’t walk if he wanted to. The guard sighed, put down his magazine, and hoisted Logan up, carrying him through the door. Logan’s mind was blank. He was in shock; everything around him moved like molasses.

He was deposited on a table covered in a paper sheet, surrounded by bright lights. The smell of antiseptic was everywhere, and it burned his nostrils. He stayed frozen as the guard attached cuffs around his wrists and ankles, clipping them to the sides of the table.

The guard left, and Logan felt an irrational stab of fear at his absence. A moment later, an older man wearing a thick pair of glasses, his hair thinning, looked at Logan with a thin smile.

“I’m Doctor Howard,” he said, his voice reminiscent of a friendly grandfather. “I’ll be performing your procedure today. This is my assistant," he gestured to a young male nurse who’d entered behind him.

The doctor moved his hand straight between Logan’s legs, pushing his limp penis aside and exposing his ball sack. Logan could feel his balls drawing up in fear, and the doctor grasped his sack firmly, palpitating his testicles. Logan moaned, a shiver coursing through his exhausted body.

“Please, no,” Logan begged, “you don’t have to do this, please.”

“Nonsense,” the doctor said firmly. “Studies have proven that this procedure, with the patient remaining conscious in particular, weeds out aggression and indecent mounting behaviors in male omegas. Can you imagine, back when we first started, a male omega actually impregnated another omega? The scandal almost shut our center down.”

Logan laughed. “Y’all just don’t want omegas breeding ‘cause then they have an omega kid, and no matter how much you tell us we’re all valued and shit, you’re… full'a shit,” he slurred, cuffs clinking against the table as he shivered. If this was the hill he was going to die on, he might as well say the things he’d been unable to his entire life.

The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “Local,” he said, reaching behind him. The nurse pressed a syringe into his hand. Logan felt a sharp prick pressing into his sensitive sack, then an uncomfortable cold sensation, then nothing. Two more needles were emptied into his groin before the area was numb.

“Scalpel,” said the doctor, and Logan started to cry again, exhausted and furious. The doctor pressed the scalpel between his legs, and Logan felt a sharp pain as the man cut open his sack, though he knew it wasn’t near what it should be.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pop, then an insistent tug. He screamed in pain and fear. He looked down between his legs, and heard a wet plop as the doctor dropped something small into a metal tray. Logan fainted.

*

When Logan came to, his guard was carrying him through a wide, heavy set of doors. Logan blinked, shifting, then cried out. The pain between his legs was terrible, loud. Where was he? What was wrong with him? He remembered all at once, and his insides turned to ice.

The guard carried Logan over to an area that looked like an impossibly large, plush mattress, fitted with soft crimson sheets. It covered the floor and half of the adjacent walls in a gentle slope.

Omegas of all genders were on the large, padded area, most of them nude, some in short shifts, others curled up and covered in blankets. Their scents were calming, and made the stink of his alpha guard more obvious.

An omega man, the only older omega in the room, approached the guard. The guard handed the older man a bottle of pills, and a tube of antibiotic ointment.

“Thank you,” the older man rumbled, his voice soft and pleasant. The guard grunted and deposited Logan roughly onto one of the edges of the mattress. Logan whimpered in pain, and the older, masculine omega crouched down, scanning him.

“’M name’s Bryan,” the omega said, his tone deep and soft, “and I’m the Elder Mother of Omega Unit B.” Bryan extended his hand and rubbed circles into Logan’s palm. 

The man’s skin was a warm, deep brown. Logan shifted again, and cried out in pain.  
Bryan’s brow furrowed. “They usually dope up new arrivals before they bring ‘em here,” he said. “You back sass your Doctor, boy?”

“Yeah,” Logan gritted, remembering. He shivered.

“Good boy,” Bryan chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “Take care with that mouth, though. Glass of water?” he called out to the room.

“Sure thing, mama,” an androgynous boy piped up. His eyelids were covered in pink shadow, and he wore a flowery dress that barely covered his ass and left the tip of his cock peeking out of the front. His small, round belly filled out the thin dress, and the boy cupped it as he walked.

“Thanks, Sugar,” Bryan rumbled. The boy blew him a shy kiss.

“Hi,” said the boy, sitting down next to Logan’s head and passing Bryan the glass. 

“My name’s Sugar,” he said sweetly. The boy’s slim hand rested on Logan’s head, and began petting through his hair. Logan turned into the comforting touch, and he moaned. He couldn’t remember anyone touching him like that since his mama’d passed, and right now he needed it like a sharp ache. The boy dropped a kiss on Logan’s forehead.

“These are your pain meds,” Bryan said, handing them to Logan. Logan grabbed the glass of water that’d been offered him, and quickly swallowed the pills.

“Here,” said Bryan, “turn on your side, it’ll take some of the pressure off.” Bryan supported the weight of Logan’s body with his hands while he turned, whimpering. Sugar propped a pillow under his head, and Logan closed his eyes, tears trickling out through his exhaustion.

“Shh,” Bryan said, petting Logan’s flank, “they’ll leave you alone for a bit while you heal. Just rest, we’ll take care of you.” Logan fell asleep as Sugar pulled a soft blanket on top of him, surrounded by the comforting scent of other omegas for the first time in his life.

 

***

Logan returned to consciousness reluctantly, unable to block out the chatter in the room. He lay quietly, trying to will himself back asleep. His arm started to go numb. He turned onto his back.

“Ohhh fuck. Fuckin’-“ he opened his eyes to find an omega he hadn’t seen before sitting above him, his eyes glancing down at Logan curiously from behind a book titled _Solid State Relays_. “Son of a bowlegged whore,” Logan groaned. “Loose cunted shitstain motherfucker.”

The corners of the boy’s lips twitched into a small smile over the edge of his book.  
“Oliver, actually,” he said, extending his hand. Logan stared at it dumbly. The boy put his book down and reached for something behind his back. 

“Sugar got called out,” said Oliver, each of his words clearly annunciated. The pill bottle appeared from behind him. “Mama said you might want these when you woke up.” He shook out a couple of pills, and extended his palm.

Logan snatched the pills from him and swallowed them dry. “You talk funny,” Logan grunted. He laid back gingerly onto his side, facing Oliver.

Oliver picked his book back up, turning to a page in the middle. His dark brown bangs hung down, covering his eyes.

“The fuck’re you reading,” said Logan irritably.

“Mm,” Oliver replied with a little wave, “Engineering stuff.”

“I know that,” Logan said, “but what about it.”

Oliver looked up. “You do?”

“I got into college ‘fore they nabbed me.” He squinted. “Just ‘cause I don’t talk pretty doesn’t mean I don’t know nothin,’” he replied, annoyed.

“Sorry,” said Oliver, and Logan was impressed despite himself at Oliver’s lack of defensiveness. “Wait," Oliver breathed, "you were unregistered, then. You passed as a beta.” Oliver stared, avaricious. The book folded down into his lap. “What was it like, going to school with alphas and betas? What classes did you take?”

Logan looked down, away from the sudden scrutiny. “Not much to tell, really. I-“ he felt a sharp pang. “I liked it, the classes. The people weren’t the best, but I liked the classes. I was good at science stuff, math, physics, bio. I thought I’d-“ Logan stopped. He couldn’t talk about this, not now. “What about you,” he said roughly, “how’d you get to doing that?” he pointed.

“Well,” said Oliver dryly. “I was born into a high society family. Which meant I got tutors, from the time I was young. I know how to write, play the piano, hold a polite conversation. I was told I was exceedingly marriageable.” Logan could tell how he would be. Oliver was beautiful- slender, lightly muscled, smooth skin and soft hair, bright green eyes.

“That didn’t, uh, go quite as planned, I believe,” Oliver smiled sharply.

“I’ve got nowhere to get to,” Logan replied.

“Oh, you know,” Oliver said, unconsciously worrying the edge of his book. “I was married off at a young age, first heat. That’s the way they like them, high class Alphas. In a nice white dress and all, someone they can stake their claim on. I grew up near the Northern border, actually,” he said, his tone carefully light. “It was my husband who lived down here.”

“What happened with that?” Logan asked, his pain finally beginning to taper off from unbearable to awful.

“It was… okay, mostly, for a while,” Oliver said with a shrug. “He’d come home, fuck me, get up in the morning, have me suck him off, and then he’d leave me alone for the rest of the day while he worked. He was an engineer. He had this really big, nice library, and I’d spend a lot of time there. But then he was… dissatisfied with me. I didn’t respond to him the way an omega was supposed to, apparently. He started beating me to fix the problem.”

Logan winced. “That blows,” he said empathetically.

Oliver raised an eyebrow, but the corners of his mouth quivered, fighting a smile. “Yes, it was an issue. He went too far a couple times, and I found that even if the police would have considered an omega the victim of abuse, they certainly wouldn’t have interfered with a husband as powerful as mine. So I decided I had to run away.” Oliver looked down ruefully. “I think you know what happened after that.”

“What about your family?” Logan asked. “Couldn’t they have done somethin’?”

Oliver laughed. “Could have? Maybe. I got letters out to them during my marriage, at a good deal of personal risk. They were ignored. When I was arrested, the law said that a runaway omega had to be turned over to the OPS. My brother felt bad enough to send me some books that weren’t the bodice rippers they keep here, but not badly enough to smear his reputation trying to get me out. As far as they’re concerned,” Oliver sighed. “I don’t exist, anymore.”

“And I thought my drunk old man was bad,” Logan whistled. “Sheeit. They let you have stuff people send you in here, though?”

“Not exactly,” Oliver returned, his gaze direct and vivid. Logan’s heart beat a bit faster, and he worried the edge of his thumb to give himself an excuse to look away. 

“The guards like me, cause I don’t cause trouble. I knew what I was getting into when they captured me, and I knew what they wanted from me. They love it when you’re polite and appropriately deferential. I also have a reputation as a boy who is very good at blowjobs,” he said, and he blinked coquettishly, eyes sparkling.

“That’s… impressive,” he said, looking Oliver over with newfound respect. “I was wrong about you.”

“Thanks very much,” Oliver said dryly. “But I guess that’s kind of the idea.”

“Huh,” Logan reflected, rubbing his fingers through his short, mouse-brown hair. He licked them, trying to tap down the side he could feel sticking up from the pillow. “I have to pee,” he announced.

“That, I can help you with,” Oliver said, putting his book down. “No one cares about my books, but,” he passed Logan the bottle of pain meds. “You might want to keep an eye on these. Two every five hours. I’ll help you keep track.” Logan nodded, holding the bottle close.

“Here, I’ll help you up,” Oliver said firmly, supporting Logan’s weight as he shifted. “One, two, three,” said Oliver, grasping beneath Logan’s arms, and Logan stood. The blanket fell to the floor, and he blushed, looking around. Oliver stepped back.

“You’ll get used to it,” said Oliver shrewdly. “They don’t usually let us have clothes, unless there’s a reason for them. It’s a part of the mind game. They want you to feel available for the alphas and betas.”

Logan gaped, and couldn’t help but stare at Oliver as well. Oliver wasn’t built, but he was muscular, and physically he was everything a proper omega should be- strong, healthy, with a decent fatty curve around his hips. 

He looked up. Oliver was staring at him oddly. “You’ll get used to it,” Oliver repeated, and gave Logan a small shove toward an alcove off to the side of the main room.

The bathrooms were large, with a string of vanity mirrors surrounding the sinks, and one large communal shower. An omega passing them dropped her towel in a bin, over which a laminated sign read “Towels must remain in the bathrooms. Those wearing towels outside of the bathrooms will be punished.” Jesus, Logan thought, they took this shit way too seriously.

“Don’t try it, with the towels,” Oliver commented. “It’s not worth it.”

Logan shrugged, and followed him to a row of urinals. He stared down at his dick as he stepped forward, taking it in hand. He rubbed it experimentally after he finished pissing, and felt a nauseous wave of unease.

“Is,” he started, going for casual but failing when his voice broke, “is my dick ever gonna work again?”

Oliver looked at him sympathetically. Another boy left the urinals, leaving them alone. “Look,” Oliver said, “I was castrated at a pretty young age, so young that they actually injected me with some low dose of hormones to made sure I developed properly. Not high enough that I didn’t stay pretty for them, though,” he added bitterly.

“But, anyway. It’s going to be different. And they’re going to tell you that you can’t feel anything in your dick now, and. Part of why they castrate us is to make sure that all we can feel is right where the alphas want us to feel it, so we think we need them to get off. But,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “it’s not entirely true. I can tell you about it some time later, if you want.”

Logan nodded numbly, and moved toward the sinks. He didn’t touch the area between his legs. In his mind, his balls were still right where they were supposed to be, under the cotton bandages, the slight weight covering his vulva.

“How about we check the chore chart?” Oliver said, leading Logan away from the spotless white countertop he’d been staring at. The whole bathroom was a bleached shade of white, and it was making him feel odd.

The chore chart took up an entire wall near the walk-in closet of cleaning supplies. Oliver skimmed it for Logan’s name. “Huh,” Oliver said, “looks like they’re putting you on agricultural production permanently, starting tomorrow. I like that one, actually, they send us all out in the summer and fall. Any experience with that?”  
Logan nodded. He didn’t know how they knew that, or if it had just been a lucky guess, but he didn’t want to find out.

“They’re going to give you about a week to heal,” Oliver stated, sure. “It’s a fairly small amount of stitches. Then they’re going to begin your training. They’ll probably begin by inducing a heat, especially since you’ve been living as a beta. If you cooperate, you’ll be harmed less.”

“What do they consider harm?” Logan asked, his mouth going dry.

“Depends on the client,” Oliver said, matter-of-fact. “They won’t do any permanent damage, unless, well. You don’t have to worry about that. They’ll either be surveilling you, or have a guard with you. If a client pays extra to harm you, they may allow it, depending on if it conflicts with other things the institution has planned for you. But you should expect not to be permanently damaged during training or the contractual use of your body.” Oliver stopped. “Except for the brand. I don’t want to lie to you inadvertently by omitting that.”

“What?” Logan demanded.

“When you’ve finished training and become an OPS omega, one that they’ll hand out to alphas who pay-” Oliver paused, smiling ruefully, “which, by the way, the OPS higher-ups hoard and feed to the state in the grand capitalistic tradition- they’ll brand you to show which facility you’ve been trained by. It’s a mark of ownership, and your perceived quality as a facility-trained omega. They’ll brand you somewhere that can’t be cut out, somewhere on your genitals. It’ll be the worst pain you ever go through, but it won’t last forever, and after that,” Oliver shrugged. “You’ll be able to take anything.”

“Thanks for tellin' me,” Logan said faintly, but sincerely. Oliver nodded.

“You might as well rest, while you can,” Oliver said. “If I’m not around tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred when the alarm sounds, ask someone where agricultural production is, make your way there, and tell anyone who asks what your name is and where you are going.” He looked Logan over and sighed.

“I know it’s going to be difficult, but if I were to give you any advice, I’d tell you to try not to annoy anyone. It might feel good, but you’ll just get yourself hurt more, and in the long run bad reputations only mean more harassment. Just do what they tell you to.”

“I… can try,” Logan replied. Oliver shook his head, looking worried, but the corners of his lips twitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thanks for reading :3


	2. Chapter 2

When Logan got up the next morning, Oliver was gone. He showered quickly, rubbing himself down with one of the many white washcloths from a neatly folded pile. Sugar passed him, giving Logan a friendly tap on the shoulder as he went. Sugar stood several inches shorter than Logan, about 5 foot nothing, and his still small round belly looked huge on his tiny frame.

As soon as Logan left the shower, another omega took his place, her full breasts bouncing lightly over her large belly as she walked.

A good number of the omegas were in some stage of pregnancy. Logan had always known that many of the children he’d grown up with had been bought from the state from farms like these (the cost of the child, of course, only going to support the expenses of the OPS). But it was different to see all of these omegas, casually showering, brushing their teeth, some of them applying makeup for their days work, their bellies full of the children they’d been bred with. Children that would be taken from them, only to start the process over again.

For the first and last time, Logan wondered where all of the older omegas were. The answer, of course, was obvious. They would all reach a point where they were unproductive to the state, and otherwise undesirable.

Logan dried himself off gingerly, and held the washcloth for a moment. Bryan’d handed him the tube of bacterial ointment the night before, and told him where to find the bandages. He took a deep breath, and removed the dressing between his legs. He moved to one of the vanity chairs and grabbed a small mirror. He spread his legs, inspecting. He hissed.

A small row of angry black stitches formed a fine line in the area where his sack had been removed. The area was tight and flat, though it still had the wrinkled texture of the skin it’d been before. His vulva looked oddly exposed. He popped open the tube, and rubbed the ointment over the stitches. He covered the area back over with the bandages. God, it’d looked wrong. He wasn’t ready to think about it yet. Or ever, really.

Logan made his way to the agricultural production wing without much incident, though he did get a couple slaps on the ass he decided to grit his teeth and smile for. The way there was winding, maze like, and he passed wing after wing of omegas. An omega female brushed past him, getting something wet on his arm. He looked up. Her back was covered in semen, her legs in slick. Logan tried to wipe his arm hurriedly, but there was nothing to wipe it on.

The warden for the agricultural unit was a cranky older beta female. She was broad, butch, her large hands calloused when she grabbed Logan’s to correct his mistakes. But she didn’t jeer or seem to care much about his presence, unlike many of the other guards. Once he did something right, she mostly left him alone.

On Logan’s fourth day in the greenhouse, he was partnered with a female omega from Unit D to repot seedlings. He kept glancing at her as he worked. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place her. Her bottom lip was swollen, and when she turned to lift a new set of pots off the shelf there was a light bruise on her back.

“You-“ he started suddenly. “I remember now. I saw you, when,” he stopped, embarrassed.

“What,” the girl said, staring at him. She rubbed her nose.

“I saw you when, you got,” he stopped again, and mimed a grabbing motion. Even he knew that this probably wasn’t the best way to introduce himself.

“Oh, right,” the girl said with a hard smile. “At least I put up a fight, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Logan guiltily, remembering how relieved he’d been when the needle had plunged into her neck. "My name’s Logan.”

“Bethany.” She gave him a nod. “You’re fresh meat, right?”

He nodded.

“Fucked up place, huh?” she scowled.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m- getting used to it.”

Bethany looked furious, and Logan shrank back. “I fuckin’ hate that shit. You been here, what, a couple days?” She leaned in, her large, dark eyes glaring into his washed blue. “And you’re already giving them what they want.”

“I’m just tryin’ to not make more trouble than’s worth, ‘s what someone told me,” he said, surprised by her vehemence.

“Who told you that?” she frowned.

“Uh, Oliver, he said-“

“Oliver,” she hissed, “I hate that pansy ass faggot-“

“Hold on, now,” he frowned.

“No, listen. This whole place, ‘n everythin’ they say about us outside, it’s made to make us think we’re less than them. That we don’t deserve nothin’, that we don’t get to make no choices for ourselves. You go in here knowin’ you’re more than a fuckin’ sex slave, more’n an incubator, sure. Then y’all bend down and kiss their asses if they let you have somethin’ you should’a already had.” She looked him up and down, and shook her head.

“Couple’a days, and you’re gettin’ used to it? Fuck you,” she spat. “Fuck you an’ everyone like you. That’s how they keep things the way they like ‘em. Wouldn’t work if y’all had some goddamn backbone.” She moved to the other side of the greenhouse, and they didn’t talk for the next two days.

*

On Logan’s sixth day, he woke up in a sweat, and his entire body felt weak and achy. Oliver looked over at him from where he usually slept when he wasn’t out for the night.

“Suppressant withdrawal,” Oliver diagnosed confidently. “It’s about time for it.”

Logan moaned and rolled up onto shaky feet, moving towards the shower. He groaned in relief at the lukewarm spray on his fevered skin, and started scrubbing himself. He cleaned the area near the incision with his fingers since the washcloth was too abrasive, and paused. His folds were slick, and slightly parted. He looked over at Oliver, who had glanced over when Logan froze.

“It’s normal, in the morning,” he said, then turned off his own spray and headed to the towel pile.

Logan absorbed this information, then followed him. He didn’t think about it again till lunch, when one of the alpha guards that’d taken a shining to him sat down next to him, sniffing.

“You’re smellin’ good, baby,” the Alpha purred, her fingers moving to stroke down his spine, then away. Logan felt himself get slick, the walls of his front hole aching, tight. He nearly choked on his rice. He’d never felt it before in his life, never like this. The alpha smiled knowingly, and resumed her station.

Two days later, while he was sitting on the mattress area with Oliver, reading his current book over his shoulder, two guards came in, and walked straight towards them.

“Logan Palmer?” one of them said. “That you?”

“That’s me, yessir,” Logan said quickly.

“Medical wants you,” the guard said. Logan’s heart beat faster, remembering the last time he’d been in medical. “Yessir,” he said, standing.

The guards shepherded him to medical, where he was told to sit on the paper table with stirrups. He placed his feet in the stirrups as the nurse instructed, and couldn’t help but gasp when she ran her fingers over his sensitive front hole.

“Suppressants are leaving your system nicely, I see,” she said, continuing to rub at his lips. He bit back a moan, and could feel himself opening under the gentle touch. She slid a finger inside, and it entered smoothly, easily. The nurse smiled, noting it on her clipboard.

“And it looks like the incision healed well, scarring seems to be minimal.” She took out a small pair of scissors. “Most of the stitches, as you’re probably aware, have been absorbed by your body, but I’ll just trim the couple I see here.” She snipped twice, and Logan realized that, though he’d been off the pain meds for a couple days, the area was only a little sore, not painful.

“I’m going to insert your hormonal implant now, and give you an injection for your heat inducer. You should see effects within 24 hours,” she said clinically, patting his ankle. “Congratulations on your recovery. Those suppressants can be nasty."

She returned from her cabinets with a small tube, and loaded it into an injector. She placed the tip on the skin above his ankle, and he flinched away. One of his guards got up and held him down by his shoulders, and the other grabbed his ankle. Logan closed his eyes and tried to block out the feeling of the large, heavy alpha above him, and his thick cloying scent. Logan could feel himself getting wet in response to the alpha’s hold, and blushed, mortified.

He felt a sharp pain in his ankle as the hormonal implant went in, then a small prick at the heat inducer.

“Alright, Logan,” the nurse tugged him up, “you’re right on track. We’ll check on you in a bit, you’re off till then.”

Logan went back to Unit B in a daze, ignoring a questing farewell grope on his ass, and going to sit back down next to Oliver. He leaned against the plush wall, drawing his knees up, and fiddled with the hormonal implant. He could already feel himself slicking a little bit, the walls of his cunt clenching at nothing. It was an odd, hungry feeling, one that he’d laughed at depictions of his entire life, sure they weren’t true.

“How are you feeling?” Oliver said.

“Weird,” said Logan. He paused. “I’m a little scared,” he admitted.

Oliver moved toward him, and wrapped an arm around his waist. Logan had never seen him touch anyone voluntarily, he realized.

“It’s easy,” Oliver said softly. “It’s really easy. Don’t fight it, and don’t feel bad about it. You can’t help it.” He looked down and away.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said, a little lost. “I know how scary it is to lose control of your body. But you don’t have a say in it, and your instincts will tell you what you want to do. Try not to think about it.” Oliver’s fingers ran soft, soothing strokes over Logan’s spine, and the touch felt so good that Logan whined plaintively.

Oliver smiled softly. “Shh,” he said, “no one cares, but it’s better not to attract too much attention.”

Logan craved his touch helplessly, and let out another whine, softer this time, when Oliver’s fingers moved away.

“What do you want, Logan?” Oliver asked him, his voice deep and warm with a shiver of power.

“I- I need to be touched. Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry,” Logan ran his fingers roughly through his cropped hair, “I don’t understand. This isn’t normal.”

“It’s normal,” Oliver soothed, and Logan was entranced by the change in his tone. “There’s nothing wrong, don’t think about it too much. Why don’t you lay your head on my lap while I read, and I’ll play with your hair?”

Logan laid down on his lap gratefully, and moaned quietly when slim, careful fingers gently scratched his scalp.

“That’s it,” Oliver soothed. “There you go.”

Logan nuzzled his leg, something in him relieved by the contact, and he drifted pleasantly. “Feels good,” he slurred, punch-drunk. “Feels safe.” He wondered at the word, but it felt right.

“That’s how it should feel,” Oliver said, and he sounded sad.

Logan had fallen asleep under Oliver’s ministrations that night and slept fairly soundly, only disturbed when he felt Oliver had moved away to shower. He drifted back into sleep.

The next time he woke, there was a small pile of omegas cuddled up to him. One of them, a young girl, poked up her head, her pupils dilated. “Whatcha doin’?” Logan asked muzzily, comforted by their presence.

“You smell nice,” the girl said, cuddling back into the puppy pile surrounding him.  
Logan shifted his legs, and felt the slick from his cunt leaking into the crack of his ass. He whined and shifted, rubbing himself on the mattress. A guard’s face materialized over him.

“Logan?” the guard grunted, pulling him up roughly onto his shaky legs. “Come with us.”

***

As soon as the guard’s hands were on him, Logan shivered, leaning into the touch before he could stop himself. Then he shrank away in fear. He’d seen the shitty porn of omegas in heat, heard all of the jokes, but he’d thought they were just wank fodder for smug alphas. All of the new sensations coursing though his body were overwhelming, and they were _loud_.

The guard prodded him down the hallway till Logan entered what looked like a fancy bathing area, and he was quickly surrounded by beta women.

“Wow,” one of the women commented, her hair in perfect blond ringlets, “it’s always the ones that come off the suppressants.”

“Yeah,” another woman said, her deep brown skin glowing like the shine of her manicured nails, “I read that their body has to compensate, heat cycles harder and faster. Makes up for lost time.”

Logan stood there as they circled, shivering at the heat of his naked, fevered body in the cool room.

“Shower,” the third woman said, her dark, straight bangs falling artfully over her brows. She touched Logan’s shoulders lightly and hustled him to the shower, spraying him off with a hose attachment.

“Hands on the wall, lean over, feet spread apart,” she instructed. Logan obeyed, his body shaking with fever, aware of the guard shadowing him. The woman rubbed shaving cream over his asshole, and began to shave delicately.

“Turn,” she instructed, and she lifted his penis to shave around and underneath, tapping his legs to spread them. Then she pulled the razor down over his thickly furred legs, exposing the soft, pale skin underneath. His legs looked thin and delicate, strange.

He watched his hair move down the drain as she sprayed him off, and rubbed his legs together. They felt exposed, bare, and they stuck together slightly. The woman pushed him out of the shower, and he went. I’m getting used to this, he thought.  
Next, he stood still while two of the woman rubbed him down with lotion, and he moaned, moving toward the touch he craved. But they moved briskly, clinically.  
“Anything special?” the blond woman asked the others.

“No,” answered the woman with the bangs. "A father is contracting the boy’s virginity to his alpha son, rite of manhood sort of deal. They want the boy tight to prove his virginity, so we’re not supposed to prepare him. Nothing extra to wear."

They sat Logan down in a chair and carefully shaved his face. One woman fluffed his hair while another applied liquid black eyeliner with a small wingtip. They covered him in some kind of shimmery, translucent powder, and his lips were given a light gloss. Logan shifted in the chair, whining. Omegas who weren’t mated yet during a heat began to cry out for an alpha.

“Ah, on you go boy,” the woman said, her manicured fingers tapping against his back. “We’re not supposed to give you any instructions, so you’re done here.”

The guards had been replaced by beta guards, who would be better able to control themselves around an omega in heat. Logan was led to a light room with stark white sheets, and cuffs were fastened around his wrist, then clipped to the headboard. Then the guards left.

After a few minutes, Logan whined in distress, panting as he tried to rub himself on the sheets. It burned, and he needed relief. He was starving for touch, any touch, and he was here alone in this little room. He’d thank someone for a slap right now.

More time passed, and Logan felt like he was going insane. Why wasn’t anyone coming to him? His emotions were a roiling mess of abandonment, and he gave a plaintive cry for an alpha.

Someone entered the room. An alpha, he could smell him. Logan whined pleadingly. It was a sound any alpha could recognize instinctively, meant to bring them to soothe their omega.

“What do you want?” the alpha asked, too detached for Logan’s liking.

“Please, alpha,” Logan squirmed, “I need to be touched-“ the alpha left, closing the door behind himself.

“No, no, please,” Logan gave a frustrated whine. He’d never really felt his cunt before the suppressants, and he’d only begun to notice it in the past two days, but now it ached, clenching around nothing. He needed to be filled, he needed to be fucked right now. He twisted his wrists in the tight cuffs frantically, hoping he could free them to touch himself, press some fingers inside of him. He sobbed and banged his head down against the mattress.

The same alpha entered the room. “What do you want, omega?” the alpha said, observing him.

“Please fuck me, alpha,” Logan begged. “I need you, please make it stop.” The alpha shut the door.

“No!” Logan sobbed in frustration and collapsed backwards. He was covered in sweat, aching, his body begging for release. He could imagine the way an alpha’s cock would feel pushing into his aching hole, opening him and pressing against his tight walls, finally giving him something to clench down on.

He turned onto his knees and dropped his shoulders down to the mattress, the chain on his cuffs clinking as he moved. He spread his knees and arched his back, presenting, begging for cock. His dick hung, limp and deferential, between his spread legs. He’d seen the pose in lewd stickers on trucks, and it was exactly what his instincts were screaming at him to do.

The alpha opened the door again. “Boy’s ready,” the man called, and shut the door. Logan felt comfortable in this position, calmer. He was going to get fucked.

Another alpha opened the door, different from the first, Logan could smell him. The alpha moved in front of him. He was large, broadly muscled, and fairly young. The man’s son, Logan remembered. His virgin body was this kid’s rite of passage.

The kid started stripping in front of Logan, palming his rapidly hardening cock. The alpha pulled down his boxers and his erection jutted forward proudly at the presence of an omega in heat. Logan licked his lips. He’d never seen an alpha’s cock before. It was much larger and wider than his own, and the kid’s balls hung heavy and full beneath it.

“Shit, you smell good," the boy groaned, stroking his cock. “Sticking your ass up in the air for me. Need it omega, don’tcha? Need a nice fat cock to wreck your tight virgin cunt.”

“Yes,” Logan moaned at the new wave of pheromones, barely aware of what he was saying. He trembled with need, and he craved attention after his earlier unnatural abandonment. “Please, alpha.”

The kid clambered on top of him eagerly, mounting him like a dog. Logan would have been humiliated if he didn’t think he’d die if he didn’t get a cock inside him soon. The alpha rutted against his ass, grunting.

“Damn,” the alpha groaned, his voice breaking, “you’re so wet, so ready to take my dick.” The kid grabbed the back of Logan’s neck, pressing down with a rough, clammy hand. Logan’s entire body went passive, and he couldn’t speak. Despite the aching need between his legs, he couldn’t rub back against the alpha’s cock.

“Yeah,” the kid groaned, and Logan felt the thick press of his cock against his tight, wet hole. The alpha was probably a virgin too, or at least hadn’t been taught how to fuck an omega. His dick slipped over Logan’s tight front hole, and the alpha cursed. He moved one hand off Logan’s hip to grasp his thick cock, and pressed more insistently at Logan’s hole.

Despite Logan’s utter passivity and the slick trailing down his legs, he cried out in pain at the pressure of the breach, panting when the head of the alpha’s dick popped in. Still, the relief of the stretch was incredible, and Logan thought he might cry from it. The kid moved his sweaty palms to grasp Logan’s hips, groaning as he pressed forward needily, uncaring if Logan’s whimpers were of pain or pleasure.

The alpha was pressing in fast, not allowing Logan time to adjust, and moaned as he finally bottomed out, making a space for himself inside Logan’s body. His heavy, intact balls were flush against the area Logan’s used to be. It felt right. The pain felt right. The press of the alpha's thick cock against his swollen walls soothed the terrible aching inside him. His mind calmed as he felt the painful, rough thrusting began, the alpha using Logan's hole with abandon as he lost himself to his need. Logan kept his legs spread wide, accepting each deep thrust of the cock inside him.

Logan had only started to adjust, the pain lessening, when the boy pressed in deep and groaned, starting to come. Logan let out a sigh of relief. It felt right to be bred under an alpha, and he felt full, complete. The alpha’s knot at the base of his dick started to expand, and the kid moaned, rubbing his balls against Logan’s hole as he ground in. The knot pressed against the tight, muscled ring at Logan’s entrance, and Logan shifted and whined at the pain.

The kid pressed his palm firmly over the back of Logan’s neck, and Logan couldn’t fight him, couldn’t buck him off like he needed to. He wasn’t ready to take the knot. It was still expanding, pressing tight against his inner ring, stretching it past the point of pain. It began to tear, and Logan gave a scream of pain, a crying, shrill sound that grew louder when the knot popped his virginal ring, tearing it completely.

“Yes,” the alpha growled, leaning over Logan’s back and moaning in his ear while he sobbed in pain, and at the cruelty of the boy inside him. The boy slapped Logan’s ass, and Logan remembered an alpha classmate, not long before he left, joking about wrecking a virgin omega and making him scream on his knot. A knot scream was common vernacular, a joke about bitches learning their place.

The alpha laid on top of him, continuing to release spurts of cum while his knot held, containing it. He rutted him twice more before he was through.

Logan lay on the white bed after he left, the kid’s copious amount of cum leaking from inside him, making his thighs sticky with semen. He looked down at the sheets and laughed. There was some blood on the sheets. The kid’s father would be so proud, he thought, and the kid would be sure of his alpha status, emboldened by his ability to take and harm. _I’m getting used to it,_ Logan thought.

Eventually, a guard came in and handed Logan some water, and forced him onto shaking feet. He moved gingerly, every step sending shooting pain to his entrance. His flash heat was leaving him after his first breeding, and he was exhausted. When he entered Unit B, he collapsed onto the mattress and curled up in a ball, crying softly.

Oliver came over to him with a warm washcloth that he barely registered. He covered Logan with a blanket, pressing himself against him, holding him firmly and telling him how good he was, how well he did, how brave he was. The words soothed something instinctual in Logan, something that had been broken since the first alpha at the door had abandoned him to his pain, and he cried himself out on Oliver’s shoulder. _I’m going to get used to this,_ he thought.

“Oliver?” he asked, when he’d finally started to calm down.

“Mm?” Oliver said, looking down at Logan’s face where it was pressed to his shoulder.

He shifted uncomfortably. “I, uh, feel like my balls are hurting, like I need to come, but I know they’re not there anymore. Is that weird?”

Oliver went still. “How are you feeling?”

“Um,” Logan said, surprised. “Better now. Not burning up, like before.” Should he not have said anything? His brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t the best at the moment. 

“Not like you’d do anything someone said?” Oliver prompted.

“No,” Logan said definitively. “Not anymore.”

Oliver swallowed, looking around. It was dark, and most of the omegas were sleeping. “I can help,” Oliver whispered, “if you want.”

“I don’t think I can take any more in there,” Logan said, wincing.

Oliver shook his head. “Not like that. I can make you come, from your dick.”

“Really?” Logan asked, eyes wide. “I mean, yes. If you want.”

“I want,” Oliver said, his pupils wide in the dark. He made a low, assessing noise. “How do you feel about your ass?”

Logan shrugged. “I dunno, really. You can do whatever. I trust you.”

Oliver kissed him on the lips, and Logan melted, opening to his touch. “You sure?” Oliver asked, pulling back, his lips red.

“Yes,” Logan said, tilting his head back and baring his throat submissively.

“Fuck,” Oliver groaned, and leaned in to kiss and lick at his neck. “Can’t bite, sorry,” Oliver whispered. “We’d get in trouble. But they don’t care about this, as long as you don’t talk about it.” His thin fingers stroked the nape of Logan’s neck, then down his sensitive spine, resting lightly at the crack of his ass. Oliver leaned down and licked at one of Logan’s nipples, and Logan had to muffle a whine at the touch.

“That good?” Oliver asked, his eyes wide and sincere.

“Yes, god, Oliver,” Logan whispered, and Oliver sucked in what sounded like a moan. Oliver moved down to run his hand over Logan’s belly, and kissed and licked Logan’s hipbones while he squirmed. Every touch felt so good, so different from the need that had burned through him before, and Logan arched his back in pleasure.

“Yes,” Oliver praised, “you’re so good, so sensitive. So sweet. Want to find every spot that makes you feel good.” Oliver’s hand drifted between Logan’s legs, gathering the remnants of his slick, and he began to slowly, rhythmically stroke Logan’s cock. Logan was thickening in Oliver’s hand, and he felt himself go limp in relief.

“That what you need?” Oliver whispered hungrily, watching Logan’s face as he thrusted into Oliver’s hand.

“Yes, Oliver, please,” he begged.

“Don’t worry about getting hard, baby,” Oliver soothed as he moved back up Logan’s body, his hand still on Logan’s cock, and pulled Logan to his chest. “Just relax, trust me, I’ll get you off.”

“Please,” Logan whined, arching his back and spreading his legs. “I can feel it, but I can’t tell-“

“Shh,” Oliver soothed, rubbing a slick finger over Logan’s asshole, coaxing him open, while the other hand continued to stroke Logan's cock. “I’ve got you.” Logan pressed back against the finger on his ass and Oliver breached him slowly, gently, pausing to allow Logan to adjust. He pressed inside Logan’s ass, and Logan gasped softly.

“Ohmygod,” Logan bit his tongue to stop himself from crying out. “Yes, right there-.”

“Shh,” said Oliver, “I know. I just want you to relax, be nice and open for me.” Logan submitted to Oliver’s touches, going slack in his grip, giving little thrusts into the fist around his cock.

“Good boy,” Oliver said, and it was warm and not at all condescending, and Logan felt himself warm at the praise. A thumb pressed gently where his balls had been, and Logan could feel Oliver’s thumb and the finger in his ass pressing at a swollen nub.

“You going to let go for me?” Oliver rumbled softly, licking Logan’s bonding gland. “Going to come all over my fist, let me push it out of you?” Oliver’s fingers pressed firmly inside of Logan, his thumb pressing up simultaneously, and his hand working rapidly over the tip of Logan’s cock.

“Oh god,” said Logan, thrusting with his still partly-flaccid cock, burying his face in Oliver’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Oliver growled into Logan’s ear. “Come for me, Logan.”

Logan opened his mouth in a silent scream against Oliver’s chest, and he shuddered and came, clear fluid leaking out of his cock in a steady stream. He collapsed in relief, panting, and laid gentle kisses on Oliver’s chest.

“Was that good?” Oliver asked, looking oddly vulnerable. “Was I ok?”

Logan kissed him soundly. “It was so good, Oliver. Thank you.” He snuggled up to Oliver, lax and happy, and Oliver sighed contentedly, petting his hair. Logan drifted calmly, lost in the pleasant sensations in his body, comforted by the rightness of the press of his warm body into Oliver’s gentle hold. Oliver whispered praises in his ear, and he felt whole.

***

“Hey, Bethany?” Logan asked hesitantly, his hands turning in the bag of fresh soil, breaking up clumps.

“What,” Bethany grunted.

It had been two days since Logan’s first knotting, and he couldn’t get her voice out of his head. Over and over, he heard, Coupl’a days, an' you’re used to it? Fuck you.

“Been thinking, ‘bout what you said. And I don’t know how to figure it, but I thought I’d ask, if you don’t hate me too bad still.”

Bethany shook her head, shoulders slumping. “Naw, ‘s not you I’m really mad at, if I’m being honest with you. I’m just mad, a lot.”

“You were right, though,” Logan said, sure. “I know it.”

“Don’t let ‘em hear you sayin’ that, or you’ll end up like me,” Bethany said. There were three sets of angry red bite marks in her bonding glands since yesterday.

“I wanted to ask you, what’d you do that got you to where you got picked up? Seems like you’d be doin’ anything to avoid that. If you don’t mind me sayin’.”

Bethany barked a laugh. “Well, I was poor’s dirt, but I got married off, ‘cause omegas aren’t exactly commonplace, yeah? And I didn’t wanna be. I got locked in this pretty lil country house, put in these little cotton dresses. And I started to lose it, I honestly did. I started ter laugh at the walls, at nothin’, imaginin’ little things to pass the time. And one day- well.” Bethany shook down her pot, and started working on a root ball on a small apple tree.

“One day he just stuck his cock in me, and I snapped. I told him, no sir, don’t you do that, I can’t just lay here every day no more. And he shoved it back in my mouth anyway, and. I bit it. Pretty damn hard. Just snapped, after a year, just like that.”

“Damn,” Logan breathed. “What’d he do?”

“Well, don’t rightly know what he woulda done, cause part of the snappin’ was that I just up an' ran. I couldn’t stay in that house no more, it was suffocatin’ me so bad I couldn’t hardly breathe. And I took up with this group’a people, wanderers, and they kept me a secret. Maybe they saw the damage in me and had it in themselves too, took pity on it, I dunno. But then they was arrested, and I was starvin’ an- well, here I am, I guess.”

“That’s quite a story,” Logan said, looking at her.

“Well, I dunno. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Weren’t actually much of a choice.” She ripped at the root ball. “I just look around me, and I see- I think a lot of people, they forget somethin’s wrong, and I look at it and I know it’s wrong, and I just get so mad. Can’t help myself. I holler and I gotta say somethin’, gotta put my foot down when somethin’s wrong. ‘Here’s the line,’ I think.”’

“Yeah, I get that,” Logan nodded. “I just don’t know what to do. I get scared, I guess. Confused, sometime.”

Bethany sighed. “I dunno the answers. I just get so mad, and it makes me blind to everything, till I gotta do somethin’. Don’t mean it’s the best thing to do. Just makes you tired, after a while, when you’re the only one shoutin’ ‘bout it.”

“’M sorry,” Logan said. “Truly.”

“Well,” Bethany said. “Lemme know if you find another answer, I guess." She paused. "Maybe we can talk, makes the day go faster anyhow.”

It was the clearest extension of friendship Logan thought anyone would ever get from Bethany. “I’d like that,” he said. Bethany nodded, and went back to her potting.  
An hour later, a guard entered the greenhouse, and Logan saw Bethany’s jaw set, obstinate. He’d been watching her for a while now, though, and he could recognize fear.

“Logan Palmer?” the guard said boredly. Logan stood.

“That’s me, sir.”

The guard looked at the dirt on Logan's hands. “Wash up, in that sink,” he pointed. “You've been assigned a trainer, and he's ready for you now.”

Logan’s heart beat faster. He’d been trying to forget. It was easy to do in the greenhouse, away from the rest of the facility. “Yessir,” he replied.

Training was in a whole new wing of the facility, completely underground. A heavy door bolted behind Logan when he entered the basement catacombs, and he tried to keep calm. He could hear the far off drip of water, and he realized the basement must be in a cave system, one of the many that lay under the ancient Appalachian Mountains.

The halls he was led through were dark, and they stank of sweat and piss. Logan steeled himself when he was pushed through a door into a room with a subtly flickering set of lights. The door clicked shut behind him. A man stepped forward from the corner, an Alpha. He was built, in his prime, and wore a pair of pants that were fitted to his frame.

“Hello Logan,” the Alpha said, and his cool voice sent shivers down Logan’s spine as he stood, his gaze instinctively lowered. “I’m going to be your trainer. My rules are simple. Look at me,” he commanded. “I require your full attention.”

“Yessir,” Logan said, meeting his gaze, though his instincts shouted he should look away.

“If you cooperate, you will do well. If you do not cooperate, I will punish you. If you try to avoid punishment, I will also consider that a failure to cooperate, and punish you further. Say "yes, sir,” if you understand.”

“Yessir,” Logan said.

“Good,” the alpha said. “I’ve been told that you had your first heat three days ago, and you were knotted for the first time. Did you bleed?”

“Yessir.”

“Has the bleeding stopped? Are you experiencing pain still?”

“Yessir. And no sir.”

“Good. You were castrated upon arrival here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This body is brand new to you then.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, sir.”

“I see. Your admitting nurse made some recommendations for your training, and I’m going to confirm them. I’d like you to sit on this table.” He patted a sleek, metal table, and Logan sat on it, shivering.

The alpha pushed him back and spread his legs like there was no question Logan would obey. Logan flinched when the man pressed a finger into his cunt, and the man smacked him across the face with a loud crack.

“What are the rules, omega?” the alpha said coldly, his other hand still fingering Logan’s front hole.

“If I don’t cooperate, I will be punished, sir,” Logan recited.

“If you do not obey me, I expect an apology,” the alpha said.

“I’m sorry for disobeying you, sir."

“Remember that,” the alpha said. He fingered Logan open, testing his entrance, and Logan tensed involuntarily.

“The alpha did his work properly,” the trainer said. “You’re clearly unused to your station, and you will have to acclimate now. When I touch you, you will learn to submit to me properly.” The alpha inserted two fingers, and Logan started hyperventilating at the memory of pain.

“I can tell you’ve become cock-shy, and I won’t allow this behavior from you as we continue. Your most important function for this facility is your ability to breed.” The alpha withdrew his fingers.

“Yessir,” said Logan, trying to control his breathing. If he panicked, he would be punished, and he had no doubt this man was willing to dole it out.

“Your doctor recommended advanced anal training, which would make you very useful. Alphas like to use all of their omega's holes, though their cocks are often too large for omegas to take without damage.”

The alpha popped open a tube of lubricant, and instructed Logan to hold his knees to his chest, keeping his legs spread. Logan breathed a sigh as the finger breached him steadily, remembering the press of Oliver’s finger inside him.

“Good boy,” the alpha praised. “Nice and open.”

“Thank you, sir,” Logan replied, relieved. At least there was one thing he wasn’t fucking up yet.

The alpha withdrew his finger. “I personally prefer to start down here,” he tapped Logan’s cunt, “because you don’t have teeth here, and it’s important for you to get used to accepting an alpha’s cock.”

“I could give you pleasure,” the alpha said cooly, “but I will normally choose not to. It’s not what you are being trained for. Most of your alphas will not bother to pleasure you. If they choose to, you will thank them.”

“Yes, sir,” Logan said. _You’ll kiss their asses for what you shoulda had in the first place,_ Bethany’s voice echoed in his mind. Logan tried not to think, irrationally terrified that the alpha could hear his thoughts.

“Stand,” the alpha ordered. Logan stood. The alpha reached out and grabbed the back of Logan’s neck, and Logan gasped and went limp, his folds growing slick.

“Ah, you’re submissive,” the alpha growled softly. “Contrary to popular belief, not every omega is naturally submissive, but it’s ideal. It will make everything much easier for you, boy.”

The alpha marched him over to another table, a tilted one with wide stirrups. Logan swallowed. He recognized it from jeers he’d heard since he was in elementary school: a breeding bench.

The alpha lifted Logan easily, and pressed him belly-down into the breeding bench by the back of his neck. “That’s it,” the alpha said. “You’ll get the hang of it in no time, omega.” Logan could feel himself drifting, like he had with Oliver, but this was different- somewhere he felt afraid, out of control, but it was lost in the haze of relaxed submission.

“Yes,” the alpha growled, looking into Logan’s glazed eyes, scanning his pliant body. 

“Very submissive. You’ll have to be taught how to control your drop. Your alpha will likely not give you pleasure, and they will not comfort you when you drop. You will feel anxious, ashamed, abandoned by your alpha. But you will not cry, and you will not complain. You will thank your alpha and spread when he commands it. Understand?”

Logan gulped. “I understand, sir.”

The alpha grunted, and buckled a wide collar to Logan’s neck. The pressure made him stay limp, and his wrists were fastened to the bench. The cuffs on his ankles forced his knees up beneath him and apart, hips tilted, presenting his hole. Breeding position. The alpha’s come would be forced deeper, gravity pulling it towards his womb as he was knotted, and the alpha would be pleased by the utter submission the position represented.

Logan heard the alpha unzip his pants behind him, and felt himself being straddled, the tip of the alpha’s cock at his hole. Logan trembled. “I’ll allow this, for now,” the alpha said, patting Logan’s trembling side, “because I’m aware it’s involuntary. As you get used to being bred, it will stop.”

The alpha pressed at Logan’s entrance, rubbing between his folds. “Do you know why you’re so tight?” the alpha asked idly.

“I- assumed it was a problem with being aroused, because I’m inexperienced with alphas, sir.”

“It is not,” the alpha replied. “You are plenty aroused, your hormonal implant ensures it.” He rubbed his fingers over Logan’s folds, and brought the slick digits to Logan’s mouth. “Open,” he commanded. Logan opened his mouth, accepting the press of the salty-sweet fingers. The alpha withdrew them.

“If you were paying attention, you’d realize you were plenty wet. Your hormones keep you wet around the clock, and you know you’re about to be penetrated, so your body is growing wetter to protect itself from damage. Why are you tight?”

Logan thought, aware of the seconds passing while the alpha waited. “I’m not sure, sir.”

The alpha pressed a finger in, pumping it. “You’re afraid. You’re afraid of my cock. Tell me.”

“I’m afraid of your cock, sir,” Logan whispered.

“Why are you afraid?”

“I’m afraid of the pain, sir. And I’m afraid of being taken.” It was overwhelming, terrifying to have a stranger moving inside of him, forcing his way into his body. He was unused to thinking of his body as anything but something he possessed.

“Yes, you are,” the alpha said. “Do you know how to lose that fear?” The alpha pressed another finger inside of him.

“No, sir,” Logan whispered.

“Some would say that you should learn to associate penetration with pleasure rather than pain, but you do not have that luxury. Instead, I'll take you every day, as many times as I need to, until being bred becomes routine. Until you learn to accept my cock.” The alpha withdrew his fingers, and pressed his cock at Logan’s entrance. Logan whined.

“You will be allowed to make noises. Do not cry out in pain unless your alpha encourages it. Do not beg your alpha to stop, or you will be punished.” The trainer pressed his cock in, fighting Logan’s body as it attempted to keep him out.

The trainer grabbed the back of Logan’s neck. “You feel this?” He pulled his cock back to the tip, then pressed back in, about an inch deep. “You feel your body fighting it?”

“Yessir,” Logan groaned, his legs trembling.

“Submit, boy.” The alpha ran his fingers around Logan’s entrance. “Let go, right here. Feel that tension?” Logan felt it, surprised. “Now let go of it.” Logan relaxed incrementally, and a few more inches of the alpha’s cock slid in.

“You’re getting it,” the alpha praised with a growl. “Now, your entire body. Let go. You are not in charge. You cannot control this. I am in charge. Your body is mine to use as I see fit.” Logan felt fuzzy, lax, and he groaned. “Who owns you, boy?”

“You do, alpha, sir,” Logan moaned.

“Whose hole is this?”

“Your hole, sir.”

“That’s right,” the alpha praised. His cock finally bottomed out easily, Logan’s slick passage accepting him. The man’s cock was impressive, about ten inches in length, but certainly not as large as an alpha’s cock could be. Still, Logan had to submit deeply to be able to accept it in its entirety. The alpha thrusted, and Logan was struck by the difference his opened, aroused passage made, and he moaned at the slick slide of the hard cock inside him.

“Your alpha may enter you before you are ready,” the alpha grunted, “and knot you before you are ready. They will not slow down. It is your job to adjust.” The alpha thrusted hard and deep, and Logan cried out, the thrusts hitting something deep and pleasurable inside him.

“Good,” the alpha panted, “take what pleasure you can. You were designed to be fucked. Alphas won’t tolerate a fussy omega who can’t learn to enjoy a good fuck.” The alpha’s thrusts sped up as Logan whined, clenching. Suddenly, Logan clamped down hard and shouted, coming around the alpha’s cock. The tension built up inside him that he'd been ignoring dissipated pleasantly. It almost came as a surprise; he didn’t know he could orgasm like this, and his cock was still limp, bouncing with each thrust.

The alpha kept up his fast, deep thrusts, and Logan whined at the stimulation on his over-sensitive cunt. “Stop whining, boy,” the trainer growled. “Submit.” The thrusts stilled suddenly as the alpha pressed deep, coming with a groan. His knot began to expand. Logan panicked.

“I can’t, sir, please take it out,” he begged, mindless with terror, remembering the searing, tearing pain of before. The alpha ignored him and pulled Logan’s hips back on his knot, holding him still. If Logan tried to pull off, he could injure himself, but he couldn’t reason through his anxiety. The knot put more pressure on Logan’s insides, and he cried, panicked, his fear going unheard. Finally, the knot stopped expanding.

“You feel that?” the alpha asked casually, grinding his balls against Logan’s entrance. “You can take it now. You’ve been bred once already.”

Logan nodded, calming. Then his stomach dropped.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” he started.

“Yes, you should apologize. But you’ve already disobeyed me, and you will be punished for it. You tried to refuse a knot, and you will never do that again,” he said, cold.

“Yessir,” Logan whispered, his heart pounding. After a few minutes, the alpha withdrew, and unbuckled Logan. Logan trembled as the trainer pulled him up to a sitting position. He sat while the trainer brought over a tray of thin metal rods. The alpha rubbed lubricant over one, and grasped Logan’s cock. Logan flinched away from the touch.

“Oh, boy,” the trainer sighed. “I have to punish you for that too now, you understand?"

“Yes, sir,” Logan said with dread.

The trainer picked up a different thin metal rod, one with a small button on the top. He grasped Logan’s cock, and Logan forced his breathing to still. The trained held Logan’s limp, vulnerable cock in his fist as he inserted the sound into his piss slit. Logan breathed slowly as the cold, the hard rod forced its way in. The trainer moved his finger to the button on top of the sound.

“You may scream,” the trainer said. He pressed the button.

Logan shrieked in pain and fear as the button forced a tiny, sharp spike out of the sound, and continued screaming as the trainer pulled the sound out of his cock. When it was over, Logan sobbed, and a thin line of blood dribbled out of his slit.

“It’s shallow, and it will heal soon,” the trainer said. “Go piss in the bucket in the corner.”

Logan stood on shaky legs, and cried out again as the urine burned its way through his cock. The piss in the bucket was tinged red, and he only just stopped himself from vomiting.

“Present,” the alpha said, detached. Logan moved to the bench. “Oh the floor,” the alpha corrected. Logan dropped to the cold concrete, and his knees were already burning as he dropped his cheek to the concrete and spread.

The alpha mounted him in one sharp thrust, pulling out and placing the tip of his cock at Logan’s entrance until Logan submitted to each intrusion. He was knotted twice more before the alpha deemed him finished for the day.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a routine to it. In the morning, Logan would go to the greenhouse. Spring had come outside of its glass walls, and Logan would glance out at the mountains as they grew greener. He would try to remember what the cool mountain air felt like, the smell of the world outside the institution walls. He was tired of the antiseptic smell of cleaner over the stink of sex.

In the afternoon, Logan would be summoned by his trainer. Sometimes, the days were short. Each day, he was fucked, till the repetition began to bore him. 

Sometimes, the days were long. He learned how to tolerate whipping, flogging, spanking. Slaps, curses, slurs, humiliation. Long, painful poses, and being left blindfolded, restrained, and gagged for hours. But he hadn’t been punished as badly as he’d been since the cut inside of his dick, which Mama'd nursed him through as it became infected.

In the evening, he came back to Unit B, back to Oliver. Seeing him was Logan’s water in the desert. Every day when he dropped from his trainer’s abuse, shivering and ashamed, Oliver would draw his head into his lap while he read, petting him, praising him.

Some nights, Oliver wouldn’t be called out, and he would wrap himself around Logan’s back or pull Logan down onto his shoulder. When Oliver was summoned, he would never speak of where he went. He would return, covered in makeup, glowing with oil, his lips and nipples dark pink on his flawless olive complexion. He’d smell of perfume and alphas when he pulled Logan to him.

Logan’s trainer had begun teaching him to keep his ass open for the past few days, and everywhere Logan went he had the base of a plug visible, resting between his ass cheeks. He shifted uncomfortably at the one he’d had in since last night. The first had been the width of a small finger; this was almost as large as an alpha’s cock. When he withdrew the plug to go to the bathroom, his ass felt empty.

A guard approached Logan, and led him somewhere away from the training chambers.

“Where are we going?” Logan asked politely, his heart pounding. The routine had brought him comfort; at least he knew what to expect, and in that he had control.

“Shut up, bitch,” the guard replied. Logan suppressed an eye roll. He and Bethany talked every day now and though he couldn’t fight back the way she did (and she never stopped fighting, even after her bonding glands began to be covered in bites from scars) he could imagine how she might respond. Thinking of her kept him sane.

He was deposited in a strange bathing area with benches and a drain. An older beta woman shepherded him in.

“Your trainer requested you be cleaned for today,” she said, her short frizzy hair bobbing as she moved. “Ever been here before?”

Logan shook his head. She sighed.

“Ok honey, up on that bench.” He moved over to the bench and looked to her for more instruction. “On your side,” she clarified, reaching for a tap. “Back facing me.”  
Logan did as she instructed, feeling odd, but, well. This wasn’t the strangest thing he’d been told to do.

She pushed a hand on his thigh. “Leg up to your chest, there’s a good boy.” He could hear her testing a gentle stream of water, but he didn’t dare turn around to look. He’d been trained out of that kind of behavior. When she pulled suddenly on the butt plug, he didn’t even startle. The widest part tugged at his anus, then popped out as the woman twisted it expertly.

She inserted a plastic tube into his hole as he began to close back up. He felt the squelch of thick lube being pressed into his ass, and after she removed the plunger the woman spread more lube over his anus.

“There we go, beautiful boy. I’m not going to hurt you here, there’s no need for that.” She pressed a hand over his belly. “Take a nice, deep breath for me, sweetheart. In, 1, 2, 3. Hold it for me. Out, 1, 2, 3.” She rubbed his stomach soothingly while he breathed, and he relaxed into her rhythm, going under.

“That’s a good, sweet boy. Nice and relaxed for me. Shh,” she inserted something cold and lubricated while she continued rubbing his stomach. “Ok, baby, I’m going to let some nice, warm water in now, and you’re going to take it so well for me." Her voice was too honey-sweet, but it was nice not to be hurt, for once.

She lightly scratched the nape of his neck and gentled him with rhythmic circles on his stomach as he felt the strangeness of the warm water entering him. He felt full, but he wasn’t in any pain, and the water made him feel warm inside. He sighed, grounded by the movement of her hand, reassured by her promise of no pain.

“You’re such a sweetheart, look at you,” the woman praised. Logan looked down at his bloated stomach, and wondered what it felt like to be swollen with pregnancy. He thought about it sometimes, being full of the life growing inside him, protecting it from harm. The warm praise of his alpha as he bore his child, and everyone seeing the evidence that he’d been bred. He wondered if he was already pregnant. His stomach cramped, and he whined.

“Ok, up.” She put a bucket under him, and he squatted and groaned in relief. She hosed Logan off, and sent him on his way in a daze.

When he arrived at his trainer’s, warm and calm, the alpha laughed. “You would go under,” he said. “Ok, boy. Bend over.” He patted the table. Logan bent over and spread his legs, and the alpha rubbed some lubricant into his ass. Then he felt the press of a syringe at his anus, depositing enough thick lubricant to make his insides squelch. The alpha fucked him with the syringe a couple of times, and Logan relaxed on instinct.

His trainer had taught him to relax his outer ring and inner ring, and seemed impressed with Logan’s control over the latter. Most omegas apparently couldn’t help but tighten it when they were anxious, and it lead to dangerous tearing of their tissue-paper thin insides. Logan’s anal training was more delicate than his breedings, simply because his front hole could take the abuse his ass wasn’t made to handle.

His trainer inserted two fingers, which Logan adjusted to quickly. He moaned at the slick slide, and tilted his ass up.

“Need something, boy?” the trainer teased.

“I’ll be happy to take whatever my alpha gives me, sir,” Logan replied. He’d been learning quickly in the past few weeks.

“Good answer, boy,” the alpha growled. “You ready for my cock yet?”

“I’m ready when you want to use me, sir,” Logan replied, “though I love when you get me ready for you, alpha, my ass is so tight.”

“You want another finger, huh? Beg for it, boy.”

“Please, sir,” Logan begged, squirming on the alpha’s fingers, “please fill up my slutty little hole with another finger.” He sounded like a cheap porno, but anything in his ass felt incredible, and he was kind of a slut for it.

The trainer prepped him with another finger. “You need cock? Tell me how bad you’ve needed a cock in your tight little virgin ass,” he growled.

“I,” Logan moaned as the fingers began fucking him. “I’ve been thinking about your cock in my ass since we started, sir. Needed it every day I’ve been plugged, they weren’t enough to fill me-“

“That’s the spirit,” the alpha chuckled. Logan felt his fingers leaving his ass, and heard the wet slapping sounds of the alpha jerking his cock. Then he felt the press against his hole.

“Deep breath out, boy,” the alpha growled. Logan let out a breath, releasing the tension in his lubed, stretched ass. The alpha pressed forward, much larger than his fingers, and Logan felt his ass ache at the tight stretch.

“Damn,” the alpha groaned, “you’re so tight here.” He rubbed the rim of Logan’s ass where it met his cock. “You take cock well, boy.”

Logan rarely received praise from his trainer, and he flushed with pride. The ache in his ass was nothing. He would adjust. He was pleasing his alpha.

The alpha pressed forward slowly, and Logan felt the strange pressure of the cock moving up into his rectum. He moaned, enjoying the fullness and the drag against his sensitive rim.

“You should see this,” the alpha panted, grasping Logan’s hips and starting the familiar rhythm of his thrusting, “how your little legs look spread wide for my cock, how big my dick looks taking your little hole.”

Logan moaned, and relished the wet slaps of the alpha’s balls against his ass, how dirty he felt being bent over and taken. Alphas jeered about wrecking boy’s assholes, but Logan didn’t feel the fear he felt when someone was breeding him. He could take pleasure in the fact that this was just sex, just a fuck he could spread and moan for. He felt better as a sex slave than an incubator; he was attractive, desired.

“Want this cum in your ass, boy?” the alpha grunted.

“Yes, please, sir,” Logan whined, “need your cum, so everyone can see you took me.”  
The alpha pressed in and growled, shifting back so the knot stayed outside Logan’s ass. He felt the thick spurts of cum inside him, and wanted the pleasure of his alpha grinding against his sensitive rim to never end.

The alpha pulled out, and cum trickled out of Logan’s stretched hole.

“Push it out,” the alpha growled, and the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stood up.

“Yessir,” Logan groaned, and pushed, feeling the alpha’s cum trickle down the backs of his thighs. The alpha pushed his finger through it, back into Logan’s asshole.

“Mine,” the alpha growled, and Logan felt powerful.

“Yessir.” He remained in position, waiting for the order to move. Instead, the alpha came back with another plug, and Logan hissed softly at the thick press against his asshole. It was bigger than his alpha’s cock.

“You’re going to have to prepare yourself with plugs bigger than this, with whatever amount of time we give you,” his trainer said, twisting the lubed plug in. Logan gasped when it bottomed out. He could do that, he thought. He could learn to take it, even find some pleasure while being taken against his will.

The alpha smacked the base of his wide plug and pulled Logan to stand. Logan was a bit bowlegged with the thickness of the pressure.

“You take that out before I say to,” the alpha remarked casually, “and I will rape your ass dry, omega.”

Logan’s mouth went dry, but he didn’t react at the rapid change in mood. “Yessir,” he replied steadily.

“Good boy,” the alpha said. “You’re done here today, go on. Be ready for something bigger tomorrow.”

***

“Take care of it,” the trainer commanded, sitting in a chair with his pants unzipped and pointing at his semi-erect cock.

Logan crawled over, since the alpha hadn’t told him he could walk again. He opened his mouth and shielded his teeth, cradling the underside of the alpha’s cock with the flat of his tongue.

“Stay there, bitch,” the trainer grunted, and pissed in Logan’s mouth, smiling. “Good little omega toilet,” the alpha smirked. Logan kept his mouth open and his eyes on the trainer, swallowing the bitter piss.

The first time, he’d been so startled and disgusted that he spat it out. That had been fixed.

When his alpha was done, Logan laved the vein on this underside of his cock, sucked on the rim, massaged his heavy balls with devotion. He moaned when the alpha grabbed the back of his head.

“Hmm,” the alpha purred. “I don’t think this is deep enough to satisfy me. What should you do about that?”

Logan pulled off. “May I give you my throat, sir?”

“You may,” the alpha nodded.

Logan stood and laid on the table. He was on his back, his head over the edge, exposing the line of his throat. “Please use me, alpha,” he said, the blood rushing to his head from the position. He opened his mouth, and shielded his teeth carefully. That was a mistake he knew better than to make.

The trainer stood and pushed his thick cock through Logan’s lips, stretching his jaw painfully. The position kept Logan’s throat open for easy access, a straight line to push through. The alpha’s cock quickly pressed into Logan’s throat, and Logan swallowed methodically, breathing thinly through his nose. The alpha held his cock in Logan’s throat for a moment, his hand pressing against the protrusion from the outside.

It had taken Logan several punishments to not vomit on his trainer’s cock, then several more to not panic when he couldn’t breathe, literally being choked to the point of blacking out on the alpha’s thick length. He’d learned to accept it; if he was going to pass out on his alpha’s cock, he would pass out.

The alpha pulled back to begin thrusting, and Logan gasped in as much air as he could every time the musty tasting prick left his throat for a few seconds. Then the alpha pressed in as deep as he could and came, rubbing Logan’s throat to force him to swallow his cum. He pulled out, and Logan gasped.

“Say thank you for my cum, boy,” his trainer instructed.

“Thank you, sir,” Logan garbled, his voice very hoarse.

The trainer laughed. “Well, the brander will thank me for that. You’re done here.”  
Logan took a minute to process while the oxygen returned to his brain, then felt his insides turn to ice.

“I’m done. Sir?” he said dumbly.

“That’s what I said, omega,” the trainer said, cuffing him. “You were a sweet set of holes, boy. I better hear you’re pleasing your clients, or I’ll come fix the problem.”

“Yessir, Logan said, standing shakily. Two guards were waiting for him when the door opened. Logan trembled, but followed them, his training kicking in.

He was brought deeper into the caves, the smell of piss and fear growing stronger as they went further. Logan saw the forge in the distance, and his legs almost collapsed.  
The blacksmith was a huge, burly man, his arms built from the forge. Logan was sweaty from the heat, but he felt cold in his bones.

When the blacksmith shoved him against the wall and locked the heavy metal cuffs around his wrists and a spreader bar between his ankles, Logan realized the source of the stench of urine. It was overwhelming. He trembled like a leaf. The blacksmith spread his cheeks, exposing Logan’s asshole, and Logan learned that his dread could be worse.

When the brand pressed against his anus and he smelled the sensitive flesh burning, he screamed in agony until his lungs gave out, heaving in panic. He didn’t even notice the trickle of warm piss running down his leg, or when the blacksmith unbuckled his cuffs, or that he’d been carried back to Unit B by a guard.

He was still letting out little screams of pain when Mama gently dribbled cooling gel over his asshole, and hadn’t realized he was sobbing on Oliver’s chest till a good while later.

“Where’s Mama?” Logan asked Oliver when he returned to some level of lucidity.

“Sugar just went into labor,” Oliver said, his voice warm and calm. “Mama’s been worried about Sugar’s hips, thinks Sugar’s too young and small to deliver. But they won’t scar him by doing a c-section, so,” Oliver sighed. “Don’t worry, Mama’ll take care of him. Mama’s delivered more omega’s babies than I can count.”

“Ok,” Logan said, then let out a soft, high-pitched whimper of pain. He tried to shift some of the pressure away, and the position had put pressure on his stomach, making it sore. He winced, trying to move.

“Let me help you, baby,” Oliver soothed. “What’s the matter?”

“Stomach hurts like that,” Logan gritted, then let out a whimper and stilled as a hot wave of burning pain came over him, inescapable.

Oliver froze. “On your side, leg up, that’s good,” Oliver instructed gently. He pressed a hand to Logan’s lower belly, feeling it. “That where it hurt, love?”

“Yeah,” Logan replied wearily. Oliver moved between his legs, sniffing.

“What?” said Logan, in too much pain to thwap him.

Oliver came back up, pressing a gentle hand to Logan’s belly.

“Oh sweetheart,” he murmured, and he sounded warm and sad. “My beautiful, gentle, smart-ass boy. Everything’s going to be ok, you understand?” Logan looked at him, frowning.

“Logan, honey. You’re pregnant.” Logan passed out again.

***

Logan, Oliver, and Sugar were debating the merits of eating out alphas versus blowing them when a guard approached them.

“Logan, Sugar,” the guard nodded, tilting his head to indicate they should follow.

Sugar was nude today, his skin so pale it almost seemed white, and his belly had tightened back to its former state rapidly. The wonders of omega biology. Mama’d been drawn for a couple days after he got back from Sugar’s delivery and said it was a close thing, but Sugar was a fighter.

Sugar smiled sweetly at the guard, and the alpha ruffled his soft, shaggy hair. Logan boggled. He’d never seen a guard do that.

When he and Sugar were dropped off at the prep room, a beta man hurried them straight to the dildos.

“Sugar, you’re over here,” the beta pointed to a row of three dildos, the last obsecenely large. Sugar nodded and lubed up the first, pumping two fingers inside his front hole before he straddled it and sank down.

“Logan, these are for your ass.” Logan looked at the cluster of three large dildos, and swallowed at the largest. “Yes, sir,” he said.

Logan took the first dildo and breathed through the burn of the stretch, efficiently prepping himself as well as he could. He looked over at Sugar, who was already straddling the second dildo, licking his lips in concentration. Sugar, aware that he had an audience, winked back at Logan.

When Logan was working the tip of the third dildo into his ass and focusing on relaxing his hole, Sugar was panting on the stretch of the monster dildo till it finally bottomed out inside him, and wiggled experimentally. Sugar pulled off and moved into the other room, and Logan followed. If they took too long, they'd be hurried on anyway.

They were hustled into makeup chairs, Logan receiving fairly conservative makeup, while Sugar’s cheeks, lips, and nipples grew rosy, and his eyes were covered in shimmer.

“This is for you, baby,” the beta man said, reappearing to hand Sugar a lacy white thong and a white satin slip. Sugar stood and pulled up the tight thong, tucking as much of his cock in the front as he could. Then he pulled the slip carefully over his head. It ended at the curve of his ass, and Sugar gave it a shake. It flowed over his small body, suggestive of the thin waist underneath, his slim, smooth legs tapering nicely below.

“Bottoms up,” a beta woman said to Logan, and Logan stood and leaned over gingerly, grabbing the counter. The syringe of lubricant pumped a large amount deep into his ass, and if Logan wasn’t sure he was getting fucked by someone huge today before, he was now.

“Group,” the beta man said. “The man with the gold watch and the monster dick’s getting Sugar. The man with the blond hair is getting Logan. The others might want your mouths, of course, but nothing out of the ordinary." He gave Logan a smack on the ass as he stood up. “Be good, boys.”

Sugar moved like a dancer down the hallways, hips swaying with the swish of his slip as he went, his bare feel whispering against the linoleum. It was a natural movement, and goddamn beautiful. Logan could see why he was so popular.

“Hey, Sugar,” he called, thinking. Many omegas of all genders would wear makeup and dresses, but.

“Yes, darling?” Sugar looked back at him.

“Are you- I’m not quite sure how to put this- are you a boy?”

Sugar smiled and waved a hand. “You’re sweet, Logan, but I don’t really care about all’a that. It all feels fine.”

Logan nodded, then stopped talking as they entered and greeted their alphas, Sugar biting his lip coyly as a large, broad man with a gold watch approached him.

The man Logan was sent in to pleasure quickly pushed him onto his back, and had Logan hold his knees to his chest, exposing his asshole. Logan hated this position; he felt like a little kid holding himself while the huge-dicked alpha reamed his ass, and it was kind of gross. His alpha had been delighted by the slight but noticeable curve of Logan’s growing stomach, telling him he was slutty little omega bitch. He was even happier to slide his cock through the still bright pink brand.

Logan panted and moaned at the deep ache of the cock in his ass, and glanced over at Sugar. His alpha had been flirting with him, and Sugar had coyly slunk into his lap, straddling his large body with his skinny legs. The alpha had taken out his cock, palming it. It was the biggest Logan had seen, which was really saying something; he’d taken ones that were thick as a coke can and made his ass throb for days.

Sugar was rubbing against it and letting out little gasps and moans while the man rucked up the satin slip, holding Sugar’s tiny hips in his broad hands.

“That’s it, baby boy,” the alpha rumbled, moving to pet Sugar’s stomach. “You’re so empty, baby. You want daddy to breed you nice and full?”

“Yes, daddy,” Sugar moaned. “I’ve needed an alpha to fill me up so bad.” He spread his legs sluttily and rubbed his cunt over the alpha’s muscled thigh, tilting his head back to bare the line of his throat.

The alpha growled and nipped at it, but didn’t bite. Probably wasn’t in his contract.  
“Yeah baby,” Sugar’s alpha growled, and Logan grunted at a particularly rough thrust into his ass, “you’re gonna take this dick.”

“It can’t fit, daddy,” Sugar pouted, wrapping him slim hand around the alpha’s cock, “it’s too big.”

“No, baby,” the alpha kissed him, and nuzzled Sugar’s bonding gland, “you’re going to do just fine, you’re gonna make daddy so happy.”

Sugar bit his lip and shifted weight onto his hands while the alpha lubed himself up, then Sugar was lifted up easily by his hips and positioned over the alpha’s dick. Logan sucked in a breath as Sugar squirmed in his lacy thong, his tight, bare ass facing Logan. The alpha dropped Sugar slowly onto his dick.

“Daddy,” Sugar whined, “it hurts.”

“Shh, princess, it’ll feel better soon,” the man grunted, keeping himself from thrusting and doing any damage.

Logan was so entranced by Sugar’s small body slowly sliding down onto the man’s massive dick that he wasn’t paying attention to his alpha leaning in towards his throat. He gasped at the sudden sharp sting of the man’s teeth on his bonding gland. He struggled at the sudden pain, trying to move back and get the alpha’s dick out of him. He hadn’t been told, he was told he would be warned-

The alpha looked up and smirked, the blood pink on his teeth. He’d probably paid to keep it a secret. Bastard. Logan felt the slimy slide of the man’s consciousness inside him, and whimpered as the man pressed his full weight onto Logan, cumming deep in his ass.

“Feel me inside you, omega?” the alpha breathed in his ear, and Logan felt his stomach turn. The man was in his mind, in his blood, spilling deep inside his body.

 _Oh, you don’t like this, I can feel it,_ the alpha’s voice whispered inside Logan’s mind, and he could feel the smile. _Stop struggling,_ the voice commanded.

Logan was powerless to resist the command of his bonded alpha, though he shuddered internally. _I didn’t think you were paying proper attention to me, bitch. He is pretty though, yeah?_ he nodded over at Sugar. “Why don’t you go on over there and give him a kiss?” he said, loud enough that Sugar could hear.

Logan pulled off the man’s cock with a squelching pop, and stood shakily behind Sugar, who’d made it about halfway down the alpha’s cock, his legs trembling. On the lips, he heard, and Logan leaned in to touch his lips to Sugar’s open, panting mouth. Pet him he heard, and Logan ran a hand down Sugar’s thigh.

 _Now stick a finger in his cunt_ the alpha growled in his mind, and Logan balked, but his dry finger moved between Sugar’s legs. He felt the wide stretch of the alpha’s cock in Sugar’s small, stretched hole, and Sugar hissed and stared at the ceiling as Logan entered him.

“That’s enough,” growled Sugar’s alpha at Logan’s. “Go have him play with someone else.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Sugar moaned, and he finally bottomed out, his front hole flush with the man’s balls. Sugar threw a concerned look at Logan, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

“Of course, princess,” the man said, pulling Sugar to his chest and starting to thrust gently. “You’ve done so well for me, baby boy. Gonna breed you nice and deep, see your little belly swell, tell everyone that you took my dick.” His dick had to be hurting Sugar, but if anyone could take it, Sugar could.

In the end, Logan was only directed to deepthroat two other alpha’s cocks, then his alpha got bored with him. Logan watched Sugar cry out as he was knotted, panting to accept the stretch as his eyes teared up involuntarily. When it was over, they were taken from the room by a guard, and they walked back to Unit B.

“Sugar?” asked Logan, amazed that he could walk so gracefully so soon. He knew from experience that Sugar would clean the cum off of his slip and keep it as long as the guards allowed.

Sugar looked at him. “How long you been here?” Logan asked.

Sugar shrugged. “Dunno. Longer’n you, but not by much. Think my daddy sold me when I was 18?”

“That’s illegal,” said Logan dumbly.

Sugar laughed. “Mm. Well, he liked gambling, and the OPS liked me.”

“How do they-“ Logan started.

Sugar patted Logan's cheek, the widened his eyes innocently. “Goodness gracious, it’s almost like we’re slaves.” He kissed Logan on the cheek, then swished into the Unit, back towards the showers. “Satin’s a bitch to get cum out of,” Sugar muttered.

Logan reeled from the dissipating bond for a few hours, dropping hard with the abandonment of the bond by the creepy alpha on the one hand, but glad for the distress on the other. He couldn’t imagine a future where the man stayed to reinforce the bond, and he understood why omegas ran away.

It was still early enough in the day that Logan was sent back to the greenhouse. Bethany was out for the day still, which probably meant she’d be beaten and/or pissed when she came back, but Logan couldn’t help but smile. The warden had just told him that the last frost had passed a few weeks ago, and soon they’d go outside to sow seeds for the summer. He was so close to being outside again, so close to smelling the earth and feeling the wind.

He’d just started to settle into sorting seed packets when the warden stood at the door of the greenhouse, looking grave.

“Come with me,” she said, and Logan was anxious. Had he done something wrong? He came to the main area, where a guard stood with Bethany in his arms. Her head was slumped, and.

Logan stood very still. Bethany’s eyes were open, unseeing. There was a ring of dark bruising around her neck. A handprint.

“I’m not standing here all day,” the guard said. “You gonna bury the bitch or what.”

“It’s too cold outside, he could get frostbite, and they’d have my ass,” the beta said. “I’m gonna put somethin’ on him, just a minute.” She held Logan’s arm in her large, calloused hand, and guided him to an area he’d never seen before, with bins full of clothing.

“Look at me, boy,” she said. Logan’s eyes snapped up. She seemed odd, far away. “I’m sorry, I really am. I kind of liked the girl’s spunk, though don’t you go tellin’ anyone that. I thought it’d be better if someone who cared about her laid her to rest. You want to do this, or you want me to grab someone else?”

Logan cleared his throat. “I can do it, ma’am,” he said. She nodded, and handed him a few warm layers of clothing. He’d forgotten what it was like to have privacy, to have his body protected from the ogling and groping of alphas and betas.

She handed him a shovel. “This is your work for the rest of the day,” she said, gruff, “then go on home.”

The guard deposited Bethany’s body in a field. The wind was sharp on Logan’s face as he looked over the barren field, noting all of the areas of freshly turned soil. These were graves. Hundreds of graves of omegas, rotting in the ground, too old to be useful, too weak to survive the demands of back-to back childbirth. Too full of fight to be useful for anything but alphas who liked to wrestle them down to fuck them, till one of them probably paid to go too far. Logan leaned over, and vomited.

He didn’t look at the body while he dug the grave, the burn of his muscles a comfort. When he lifted her again to bury her, he cried without fully realizing it. When he’d finished covering the unmarked grave, he sat and listened to the moan of the wind in the mountains.

“Bethany,” he said to the empty field, “the warden says we’re going outside soon. Guess you just couldn’t wait. Typical. I-“ he choked, then took a steadying breath. “I don’t know how I woulda got through if it weren’t for your voice in my head, reminding me when they were sayin’ stupid shit. You were right. This is all wrong. We’re not even people far as they're concerned. And I don’t know what the answers are yet, but I swear to you, if there’s anything that can be done to fix it. I’m going to do my damnedest. I won’t ever forget you, Beth.”

He watched the sun go down, then went home to Oliver, and read quietly over his shoulder. Oliver taught him what he'd missed, and smiled at Logan's sarcastic commentary. He knew when not to ask.

***

Spring deepened into the beginnings of Summer, and each day Logan grew stronger. He plowed the earth while the birds returned in the morning. He sowed the seeds he’d carefully sorted. He watched them grow.

He was allowed to wear clothing in the fields, and it helped him forget about the slow swell of his belly. It was too strange to look down and see his body changing shape without his consent, and it felt like a betrayal. He paid as much attention to it as the space between his legs, though sometimes he’d catch himself in the mirror and stare, trying to reconcile the person he knew with the body facing him.

Logan could afford to ignore it; they were pumping him full of vitamins at each check up, and omegas could work just fine till the last couple weeks of their pregnancies.

He talked to Bethany, though her body was far away on the other side of the grounds. He shared all the weird shit Sugar told him about the people he’d fucked, though no one could tell it as well as Sugar. Logan realized very quickly that he’d known nothing about Sugar, but he had one thing in common with everyone who survived at the institution: he’d learned how to play the game.

Logan even sang to himself sometimes as he worked, the growing chirping of grasshoppers and whirring of cicadas his only accompaniment. The guards usually didn’t follow the omegas into the fields; whatever security system they had seemed to be enough for them. Logan was the happiest he’d been in a long time, the privacy of the fields giving him a grounded peace he’d forgotten.

When Logan left the showers of Unit B scrubbed of dirt, muscles aching pleasantly, and ready to settle in for the night, his arm was grabbed so suddenly he startled. Mama was stopping him, and looked grave.

“I’d leave him alone for a bit, son,” Mama said softly, a burr in his tone.

“What’re you talking about?” Logan said, looking around. Mama looked toward Logan’s usual sleeping corner, and Logan followed. Oliver was lying on his side, facing the wall. Logan’s pulse jumped.

An omega girl, one Logan’d seen a few times at dinner, followed their gazes.

“Damn creepy, how he does that, huh?” she commented. “Just stares at nothin’. Wish he’d just lose his shit every once and a while, ‘stead of that, you know?”

“Shut up,” Logan hissed, and the girl raised her hands and went off to the showers. He pulled away from Mama.

“Hold on, Logan, just for a minute,” Mama said. Logan stilled, his gaze still on Oliver. Mama sighed.

“It’s a blessing to find any comfort in here, I know it,” Mama said softly, “but be careful how much of your heart you give away, son. Things change quickly in here. Things that you thought’d last forever get snatched up.”

“The fuck are you saying,” Logan hissed.

“Boy,” Mama said, his eyes kind and full of pity, and something else, “you’re one of the ones built to last in this place. Oliver's been here for a while, and I’ve known since the beginning what he was, bless his soul. I've seen it before.”

Logan glared at him.

“Logan, Oliver hasn’t whelped once since he’s been here, or with his husband ‘fore it. He had one miscarriage early on, then nothin’. His value to this place is his line, the money they can get for a child with his breeding and his name. They’ve been happy with him playing by the rules so far, but.” Mama rubbed his other hand over his chin. “They’re getting impatient, you understand?”

“You think you know somethin’,” Logan hissed, wrenching his wrist out of Mama’s grasp, “you don’t know Oliver.” Mama let him go, his gaze following.

Oliver sighed, unmoving but still sensing Logan. “I’d like to be left alone for a bit, Logan,” he said woodenly.

“Nope,” Logan replied stubbornly, “well, not unless you tell me to stop, anyhow.” Logan lay down behind him, pulling himself flush to Oliver’s back as slowly and carefully as he could, then felt something wet and sticky on his leg. He pulled back. It was blood.

He hissed. “Jesus, Oliver-“

Oliver was tense in his arms. “They’re getting pissed. There’s something wrong with me, but they keep poking and prodding and not finding anything wrong. I’m healthy as a horse and as fertile as they want. They keep trying different things, they know more about it than I do, but I think they’re running out of options.”

“Oliver,” whispered Logan, and he was scared. Oliver was the one who always knew what to do, he was steady and confident and unshakeable, no matter what. “What happened?’

“Oh, some fucker took me dry, obviously." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "After whatever test they tried this time failed. And they let it happen, and I know what that means.” Logan was still.

“Means fuck-all,” Logan growled, and held him tighter.

“Oh, honey,” Oliver laughed quietly, and squeezed Logan’s hand. “I heard you shout at Mama. What’d Mama say?”

Logan froze. “Never mind what Mama said, Mama thinks too much,” he grumbled.  
Oliver traced circles into Logan’s palm. “Shh. You should listen to Mama. He’s right, whatever he said about me.”

Logan swallowed. “He said I shouldn’t get too close to you. Easy for him to say up on his little throne, never seen him be with anyone-“

“That’s not fair, Logan” Oliver said sternly. Logan huffed.

“He doesn’t understand,” Logan reasoned.

“If anyone would, I think it’d be Mama,” Oliver said, his voice reaching that gentle, firm timbre that made Logan feel safe and pliant. Damn him.

“Whadda you mean?” Logan slurred, snuggling closer and breathing Oliver in. He stank of alphas, and Logan really wished for the first time with all his being that he didn’t have to, that there was somewhere Oliver could be without alphas grabbing at him, on him and in him.

“Way back when they closed the old center and opened this one, Mama got pregnant, or so the story goes. They tested him, and he was carrying an omega.”

Logan hissed. “No way.”

Oliver nodded. “Which meant, you know, it wasn’t from any breeding by an alpha or a beta. Omegas don’t produce other omegas. Unless they were bred by an omega.”  
“The man who- did my surgery, when I came in, he said an omega had gotten pregnant by another omega-“ Logan whispered, and Oliver nodded.

“They killed him. Everyone knew about their relationship, and it wasn’t hard to figure out. They nearly killed Mama, and they would have, except before he died the omega said it wasn’t Mama’s fault, that he'd seduced Mama. And instead of losing two investments, they lost one, I suppose,” Oliver murmured.

“Damn,” whispered Logan. “I shouldn’t’a said what I said earlier,” he said, guilty. “Do you figure, Mama and him-“

“Did they love each other? I think so,” Oliver nodded. “He looks at me sometimes, when he thinks I’m not paying attention, and he looks so sad. Even before you came here. I think something about me reminds him of him.”

Logan nuzzled the back of Oliver’s neck, and Oliver breathed a sigh of pleasure. “I’m not losing you,” Logan whispered fiercely. “I won’t let it happen.”

“Ok, honey,” Oliver replied softly, and kissed his hand.

A week later, Oliver was sent to the fields, the growing acres of crops demanding more hands. He smiled when he approached Logan, and summer grew heavy and humid as the days passed around them, filling the mountains with rich greens that faded to blues off in the distance. Oliver’s body was kept functional for the labor that fed the facility, and he and Logan savored the time they had together, each hour they spent apart too long for comfort.

***

“Slow down,” Oliver gasped, laughing as he darted through the high stalks of wheat, “a young man in your condition-“ he yelled.

“Condition, my ass!” Logan shouted, and Oliver started running in the direction of his voice, stalks of wheat hitting him as he went.

“Ha!” he said when he spotted Logan, and Logan giggled and ran faster.

Oliver chased him, the high summer sun filtering in and out of the stalks as he sprinted. Logan had hit the fence, and looked back, wide eyed.

“I surrender,” Logan called, grinning.

“Damn right,” Oliver growled, stalking closer. Logan shivered.

“You been cussin’ more lately, I think. I’m a bad influence.”

“Hm,” Oliver stopped and assessed him. “Should I punish you for that?” he asked lightly.

“Yes, sir,” Logan giggled nervously, “I’ve been a very bad boy.” He ducked his head and fluttered his eyelashes, which made Oliver snort and roll his eyes.

“Come here, darling,” he gestured, and Logan came to him eagerly, pulling Oliver close to give him a deep, filthy kiss. No one was watching them here; no one cared to follow them all the way out to the edge of the fence, ostensibly checking the crops for parasites.

Oliver leaned back and tickled Logan’s ribs, smiling when Logan yelped and made a face, swatting him. Oliver held his wrists firmly and growled, scenting his neck. Logan shivered, going weak-kneed. He was pinned gently to the ground with Oliver holding his wrists above his head, looking smug.

“Bite me,” Logan growled playfully.

“Oh sweetheart,” Oliver smiled, grinding against him, “in a heartbeat.”

Logan moaned, grabbing Oliver to him, who was too careful of his weight on Logan’s stomach. Which Logan didn’t like to think about. He opened to him easily, going pliant and accepting Oliver’s kisses, and Oliver groaned. He could never get him close enough.

“I wanted to suck your cock,” Logan pouted. “How’m I gonna do that like this?”  
Oliver groaned, pausing the trail he was making from Logan’s neck down to his nipples.

“That what you want, baby? Want me to give you my cock?” Oliver said, husky, but still smiling the small smile he did when Logan could get him comfortable enough to express any emotion.

Logan had already heard those words so many times from alphas and betas, and he’d given them what they wanted, whining and begging for their cocks and cunts and whatever the hell got them off while he rolled his eyes internally. But with Oliver, he felt content when he went under, and he craved the weight of Oliver’s cock on his tongue, his warm smile as he petted Logan’s hair, the lost look of pleasure he had when he gasped and came.

Logan flipped them, landing Oliver on his back with a small oof. Oliver smiled and shook his head, petting Logan’s hair as he made his way down Oliver’s body.

“You,” Oliver gasped as Logan kissed his lower stomach, his inner thighs, anywhere but his cock, “are a brat.”

“Yessir,” Logan confirmed, muffled. He licked and kissed over the scarred remains of Oliver’s scrotum, staying away from his increasingly wet entrance. They’d been hurting him, Logan knew, but he didn’t know how; Oliver didn’t say. Every time he got called to medical, though, Oliver looked small, shrunken, like he was trying to hide.

He quit teasing and gently took the tip of Oliver’s cock into his mouth. Oliver moaned deep in his throat, his dick twitching in Logan’s mouth, and it was all Logan could do to keep himself from dry humping the ground. Oliver buried his hand in Logan’s hair, gripping, which made Logan even wetter.

He’d learned pretty quickly that alphas didn’t like it when he tried to touch his dick, but it didn’t matter anyway. That was for Oliver. He could blank out and tolerate alphas and betas when they groped him and used him, act and moan and grit his teeth and cry out for them, but when Oliver touched him he felt like there might be some part of him that wasn’t entirely tarnished yet.

Logan suggestively slid a finger into his mouth alongside Oliver’s cock, looking up questioningly, and Oliver looked down and groaned.

“Yes, baby, that’s perfect,” he praised, looking a bit in awe, and Logan felt warm from the inside.

“Thought I was a brat,” he said mock-innocently, pulling off Oliver’s cock. Oliver ran his fingers over the nape of Logan’s neck, and Logan’s hips twitched.

“My brat,” Oliver growled, running a finger over Logan’s lips, “so good for me. Don’t ever change.”

Logan ducked his head and got his finger good and wet, pressing gently at Oliver’s ass as he took his partly erect cock back into his mouth. Oliver hissed, and gripped his hair again, panting as he thrusted, his cock the perfect size to fill Logan’s mouth without gagging him.

Logan had only been fingering Oliver’s prostate for a couple of minutes when he stilled, gasping. It had been a few days, which was starting to feel like an eternity to them. Logan moaned around Oliver’s cock, encouraging him while Oliver ran his fingers over Logan’s jaw in warning.

Oliver always came quietly with a small gasp, his mouth open. Logan thought it’d probably been from years of hiding it when he got off. It was the one time when he saw Oliver truly unguarded, and he hoarded the expression in his mind possessively. He smiled when he pulled off and moved up to kiss Oliver all over his face in fast little kisses that made Oliver smile despite himself.

“Your turn,” Oliver said casually once he’d caught his breath, and that was all the warning Logan had before he was flipped over. Oliver moved down to eat him out, looking up at him questioningly.

“’S fine,” Logan answered in a voice that was a bit too high pitched. It varied, sometimes, but. Logan liked every way that Oliver touched him, and his hormones were driving him nuts.

Oliver ate him out and laved his tongue over Logan’s ass till Logan begged to be fucked. Oliver pressed two fingers he’d licked clean into Logan’s open cunt, crooking them to make Logan shout. He always looked pleased as punch when he made Logan come, gripping Oliver’s fingers and shuddering for a bit after. Logan felt sated, relaxed when Oliver fucked him, and he never hurt after.

Logan was resting with his head on Oliver’s chest while Oliver stroked his spine, and looked up to see Oliver looking down at him, soft and sad, which Logan couldn’t have.

“No,” he said cheerfully, and kissed him.

“Logan, I-“ Oliver stopped. “You make me believe in good things.”

Logan cuddled into him for a few more moments, then groaned and hoisted him up.  
“Back to work,” he announced. “Good thing we found the perimeter, cause we’re gonna be walkin’ it.”

They trudged over the grounds, talking, sometimes chasing each other and wrestling playfully. Logan was chasing Oliver when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He stopped.

“Oliver,” he called, “come back here!”

Logan stood in front of the fence. In the thick layers of barbed wire, a large hole had rusted away, encouraged by animals. Oliver stood with him. Logan reached toward the hole.

“Logan, no,” Oliver barked, grabbing his hand. “It could still be electrified, like the rest of the fence.” Oliver picked up a fallen stalk, and threw it at the hole. It sizzled, and caught fire. Logan swallowed.

“Well, that’s that then,” he said, and turned to go.

Oliver looked at the hole hungrily, and into the dark forest beyond. “I know how it works,” Oliver whispered. “I could short it, I know I could.” He looked away suddenly, and smiled bitterly. “Not that it matters. Where would we go? There’s nowhere we could go that they’d leave us alone. They’d just bring us back, and punish us for trying.”

“We could hide,” Logan said quickly, “we could hide, in the woods-“

Oliver looked at him sadly. He held his hand out, and Logan grasped it. “It’s a beautiful dream, darling, and I love you for thinking it. Come on, let’s go.”  
They finished walking their section of the perimeter, checking the crops. Logan didn’t forget where the hole was, and he thought about Bethany a lot over the next few days.

***

The leaves on the trees had just begun to turn when Logan felt a strange sensation in his stomach. He turned off the grain collector, and looked down. It happened again. The baby was kicking.

“Hello, baby,” he said, placing a hand on his stomach. It was a beta female, he’d been told. “Are you getting tired of being stuck in there?” He rucked up his shift, and sat, running both hands over the swell of his stomach. It’d been hard to ignore, lately, but he hadn’t let himself think about it much. He ran his palm in a meditative circle. He was carrying a child, now. One that was alive, moving inside him.

“It’s probably nice and warm in there,” he commented. “Don’t see why you’d want to leave.” He’d been feeling warmer lately, slower, and it wasn't altogether unpleasant. He'd been aching places he didn't know he could ache, sure, and sometimes he threw up out of the blue; but he felt attached to the innocent stranger inside his body. Whenever he stumbled, or felt unsafe, he cupped his stomach defensively. Every instinct told him to protect his child. His child. When had he started thinking of her that way?

Oliver had been taken off of the fields, and was gone frequently now. He’d started accumulating bruises, scratches, and then there was whatever made him walk stiffly. It made Logan sick with worry.

Today, Oliver was lying on his side, and he wasn’t reading.

“Oliver?” Logan asked gently. He knew Oliver wouldn’t talk about it, but he tried to let him know he could, just the same.

“Come here,” Oliver said, his voice quiet. Logan crouched close. Oliver’s eyes met his, and they were full of some emotion Logan didn’t understand. He was pale and shivering lightly, and looked the way he did when he was feeling nauseous.

“Are you ok-“ Logan started.

“Oh,” Oliver said, his brow furrowing, “never mind that. Listen.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I heard something, today." He paused, taking a deep, shaky breath.

Logan waited. He’d never seen Oliver express this much of, well, anything before.

“Logan,” he started, intense. “There are places where the OPS doesn’t exist. Where omegas, they aren’t kept like we are.”

Logan tried not to look panicked. “Oliver, honey, you sure you’re feelin'-“

“No, listen. They didn’t care about what I heard, because I was being fucked by a couple of people at the time, but I was paying attention, you know, to think about something else.” He gripped Logan’s arm. “I think it’s the north. That’s where the man said he was from. He was a politician, or something. Logan, have you ever known anyone who’s been to the north?”

Logan frowned. “I- that don’t mean nothing. No one wants to go north. They’re fuckin’ warmongers. I’ve seen it-“

“Have you, Logan? Think.” Oliver leaned forward. “What do we really know about it? I lived right next to it, and all I can remember is hating it, with all those stories about how we’d protected ourselves from them, and the rest of the world. We get machines stamped with their seal, but I’ve only known a handful of people who’ve been north, and never an omega-“

Logan snorted. “Who’d let their omega travel anywhere?”

“You really don’t think it’s suspicious?” Oliver hissed. “That we’ve never talked to anyone from the north, that everything we hear is that they’re animals our closed borders protect us from? That we won some terrible war, and we live in this idyllic, fertile countryside that any of them would be happy to take from us? That we have to defend our land, and our way of life?"

Logan swallowed uncomfortably. That was what they'd taught him in public school, and "way of life" seemed to be code, for-

"Logan,” Oliver looked at him intently, eyes fever-bright, “what could be worse than this?”

Logan paused, idly playing with Oliver’s fingers. “It’s suspicious. You said he was from the north? What’d he say?”

Oliver smiled crookedly. “Bunch of shit how they’re training their omegas properly here, that they’d arrest him for following the natural order or whatever back at home. Why would he have lied? You tell me.” He was gripping Logan’s hand unconsciously now, brow furrowed.

“I believe you, honey,” Logan whispered, his head spinning. "It's just, I've never heard anyone say different than what I always heard about the north." He stopped for a long moment. "But-"

Oliver looked at him, questioning. “It makes sense, doesn't it? I know it does.”

“Maybe," Logan admitted. "At least for us, sounds better'n here." He looked down at his hand, fiddling with Oliver's wrist. "Oliver,” Logan said carefully, “how far are we from the border?”

Oliver paled. “No, Logan. We’d never make it. I didn’t mean- I just wanted you to know-“

“Shh,” Logan said, running his fingertips over Oliver’s arm. “Just hear me out. What're we going to do in here, Oliver? Am I gonna have to smile and thank them every time they rape me for the rest'a my life? Carry their children ‘till it kills me, or I get too old to be useful for them? Am I going to have to watch them hurt you, over and over?”

Oliver looked down.

“This isn’t living,” Logan said gently, “this innt even surviving. Anything else, and we’re lying to ourselves. We don’t have any power, and that’s how they want it, and when we die others will take our place. We’re playing by their rules, because we don’t got any choice. Do we got choices now, Oliver?”

“God,” Oliver whispered. “Yes. The border isn’t far.”

“How are we gettin' there? On foot? What're our options?” Logan whispered, and Oliver’s eyes grew wide.

“We can only go so far on foot before they catch us, but my brother, we use a code-“ Oliver’s breathing grew shallow. “If he could disconnect it from his name, he’d do it. I know he would.”

“Tell him to do it,” Logan whispered.

“Oh, my god,” Oliver said. “Logan, I- I don’t know.”

“What are our choices?” Logan said firmly. “What happens if you stay?”

Oliver paled. “You’re right. We don’t have a choice,” he said, nodding, “we have to try.” He paused, thinking. Logan smiled. He looked more like himself now than he had for weeks. “For the fence,” Oliver said, businesslike, “there are things I’ll need. But we can’t trust anyone else. Not yet.”

Two days later Oliver came back from medical again, shaking with pain, but he smiled when he saw Logan, and looked pointedly at the wall behind him.

“I got it,” he said, his face more full of life than he’d seen in a while. “And now I need something from you.”

***

Logan slipped away from the granaries, concealing Oliver’s device under his shift as best he could. His heart pounded. If anyone found him with it, Oliver had warned, they’d both be made. Their weeks of careful planning and correspondence would be undone, and the only possible escape route they had would be gone.

He hurried as quickly as his round, heavy belly would allow, and patted it soothingly as the baby disagreed with the pace.

“Shh,” he said absently, “I’m workin’ on getting us outta here.”

He reached the hole in the fence, hands shaking as he studied it. Within the next few days, they would walk through it. The wheat stalks around him were brown and dry now, most of them cleared, providing little cover. The green summer was gone, and the leaves on the trees were brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows. He pulled out the device with a sweaty hand, and waited.

Oliver said that it might take several minutes for the device to calibrate, and whatever the tiny numbers meant, they’d give Oliver the information he needed to wire the device he was slowly and meticulously creating. After this final step, the device would finally be ready. According to Oliver, it would affect the transmitters that electrified the fence, but only locally. It would be seconds before the disturbance sounded an alarm.

The device stopped, the numbers halting. Logan breathed a sigh of relief. His stomach was cramping, and he needed to sit down. He tucked the device into his shift, and turned to head back.

The warden was standing there, expressionless, her broad arms crossed.

Logan’s heart beat rapidly. “I-“ he choked, “someone said there was-“

“Save it, boy,” the warden rumbled. “You’re a shit liar.”

“Ma’am,” Logan said faintly.

She stared at him, unreadable, and his knees felt weak. “I don’t want to know what you’re doing here,” she said finally, “so I’m not going to ask. But if I do this, I want you to make me a promise, you hear?”

Logan nodded faintly.

“That boy, who you were with this summer.” She looked away, towards Bethany, towards the graves. “Don’t make me watch you bury him.”

Logan felt dizzy. “Yes ma’am,” he answered. She nodded and turned away, and he started to walk with her back towards the granaries. His stomach cramped, and he felt a sharp burst of pain. He gasped.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, lightheaded, touching his stomach. The warden turned around sharply. He felt something warm and wet trickle down his leg. He swayed, watching the warden run towards him.

“It’s not time yet,” he said, and the warden hoisted his gangly body into her broad arms. She was jogging. He felt another, sharper cramp of pain, and he whined.  
“Hold on, kid,” the warden growled. “Medical!” he heard her shout. “I need-“ he passed out.

When Logan came to, he was in a hospital bed, devices hooked to his arm, and someone was cutting his clothes off. The device, his brain supplied urgently, if they find it now, you won’t save Oliver. He struggled, and a guard came to hold him down.

“Mama!” he called frantically. “Mama, where are you?” Mama’s face swam into his vision, looking pinched, anxious. He grabbed Mama’s hand, pulling him closer, and guided the hand to where they’d cut the shift open. Over to the device. Mama’s eyes widened, and he grabbed it, dwarfing it in his palm.

Logan felt another cramp tear through him, and he couldn't help but scream in pain. He looked down. There was blood on the sheets. A lot of it. Mama grasped his hand, and Logan teared at the pain.

“It’s too soon,” Logan said, moaning. Mama squeezed his hand, standing back to let the nurses pull the remnants of Logan’s clothing from his body, spreading his legs wide. They ignored Logan entirely.

“It’s ok, son,” Mama said firmly, “deep breaths now. They’re going to have you try to deliver. The baby will likely survive just fine at this stage.”

Logan looked down, and felt faint. That was a lot of blood.

“You’re not going to die,” Mama said fiercely. Logan sobbed at another cramp. A contraction. Mama gripped his hand. “Deep breath,” he instructed, “and push for me.” Logan obeyed, breathing in shakily, screaming out at the pain. Objectively, it wasn’t as bad as the brand; but this was a different kind of pain, and he was more terrified now than he’d ever been. His stomach looked obscenely large between his thin legs.

Logan breathed shakily, and began to black out. Mama slapped him. “Stay awake,” he said urgently, gripping Logan’s hand. “Come on, just push.”

Logan nearly blacked out twice more before he was done, and he ignored their movements between his legs. Someone was holding the baby up, and smacking her bottom. She wailed, and Logan was transfixed. They started cleaning her off; his heart clenched, anxious.

“Please,” he begged, “can I hold her, just for a minute.” They ignored him, and the nurse holding the baby and cooing to her started leaving the room.

“No,” he sobbed, exhausted, his hormones running haywire, “please.” She was a part of him, didn’t they understand? He had to hold her. He’d carried her for nine months inside his body, and now he felt empty without her. He couldn’t let them take her away, he needed to hold her. The door shut behind the nurse, and he turned his face into the pillow, clutching it to him.

Mama stroked his hair, and he hid his face. He felt hollow, aching. His insides were a pit of grief that he didn’t fully understand. This was wrong, a part of him had been taken away, how could they not just let him hold her?

“Shh,” Mama said, and Logan started to feel strange, slipping into the darkness. He was being consumed by it, he thought absently. Mama’s hand made its way through his hair again, grounding him. “They’re sedating you now,” he heard, “they’re going to fix you up. You’re gonna be ok. First time’s always the worst.”

 _You’ll get used to it,_ he thought, and unconsciousness swallowed him.

***

“We have to tell them now,” Logan said, hushed. Oliver worried his lip anxiously. “Don’t you understand?” Logan pleaded quietly. “I have to give them a choice.”

Oliver nodded distractedly. “No, I know. You’re right. I'm just thinking of the best way to go about this. If we're not careful and one of us gets caught... or someone reports us, we’re all going to be punished.”

“I hear you,” Logan said softly. Oliver had been jumpy lately, and Logan knew he was afraid. Afraid of staying and having to face medical even one more time, just as afraid of being caught and kept to be punished further.

Logan squeezed Oliver’s hand. “We can’t think like that,” he said firmly. “It’s going to work because it has to.” Oliver nodded, looking away. “Leave it to me to ask the others,” Logan continued. “ I’ll ask tonight; it’ll give them a couple of hours to decide. Ok?”

Oliver let out a breath, and shook himself. “Right,” he said firmly. “I’ll tell Sugar we’re ready to go.”

Sugar had volunteered to be the distraction while they made their way to the agricultural unit. Logan had no doubt he’d succeed. Sugar could charm the skin off a snake if he put his mind to it.

Logan’s first group looked at him like he was crazy, and told him to leave. He tried to reason with them. They told him to leave again, less politely this time.

“Look,” he whispered to the third group he'd approached, exasperated, “I know how this must seem, and you should make whatever choice is best for you and yours, but look around you. This where you want to die? Are you all gonna play nicely by their rules by the rest of our lives, hopin' they'll be nicer, hopin' you won't get hurt? 'Cause I can tell you if you're tryin' to tell yourself that, you're lyin' to yourself. They're happy to make our lives hell, works just fine for them." He looked at them, and they looked away. One of them left. Logan missed Bethany like a sharp ache.

He turned to the four remaining women, sighing. “No matter what you do, you’re not safe here, and that’s the truth. Things are only gonna get worse for you here. And when you die, they'll just replace you with another body, you understand?”

They were still paying attention, and he held his breath. They looked at each other. “North, you said?” one of them prompted.

He nodded. “Yes ma’am.” She looked back at the group. “We’re in,” she said. “What do you need?”

Logan approached Mama once he was on his own. He’d no sooner opened his mouth than Mama waved him away.

“I wish you the best of luck, son, though I want to warn you you’re not the first to try, and no one’s made it anywhere yet. But I’m needed here.”

Logan looked at him, torn.

“That’s my decision, boy,” Mama said, patting him on the shoulder. “You make it out for me, you hear? And I want to apologize.” He kept his gaze steady. “If any one of us could make it out and survive, it’d be Oliver.”

Logan nodded. “You’re damn right.” He let Mama go.

All in all, about thirty omegas joined them. It was daunting, but Logan had planned for it. He nodded to Sugar, and Sugar winked at him and sauntered off.

Oliver retrieved four syringes, full of sedative. He passed them to Logan, who took one, and passed the other two to a man and a woman who approached him. They had to be quick, or one escaped guard could alert the others.

All eyes were on Logan. He looked at the guard, then blinked at the omegas twice. The four omegas with syringes moved towards the hulking guards. Logan’s hand shook. This went against everything he’d been conditioned to do. A sideways look at an alpha could get him brutally assaulted; just holding the syringe was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.

Other omegas moved closer to them, waiting in the wings. It was time. Logan blinked twice, and there was a flurry of motion. He ran towards the guard and stabbed the needle in his thigh before he could react, emptying it. The guard grabbed him around the neck, and Logan gasped as he was abruptly yanked off the ground. Then the guard dropped.

He heard a deep-throated snarl to his right, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He'd recognize that voice anywhere, but he'd never heard anything like it. Oliver had bitten into his alpha’s neck when the alpha tried to fling him against the wall, and he’d torn a chunk of flesh out. The alpha shouted, but Oliver had emptied the syringe into the other side of his neck. It was a diversion.

Oliver looked over at Logan and smiled ferally, his teeth pink with blood. Logan swallowed. Some people thought Oliver didn’t feel anything, he thought. That he was a pushover at best. He thought that no one probably knew Oliver, not even him.

He heard the crack of the other male omega’s skull on the ground, but before he could move two others had taken his place. All four of the guards were on the ground, unconscious. A moment later, Sugar came back. He surveyed the scene, then nodded them forward.

Sugar was their scout, diverting, distracting, signaling them to hide. It would be 20 minutes at least before the Unit B guard had a check-in.

They finally entered the agricultural unit, snapping the old lock on the door, feet whispering through the dark room. They filed quickly into the clothing room, grabbing things as they went. Logan opened the door to the outside, and thirty pairs of eyes looked to him for guidance.

“Run,” he told them, and they followed him, jogging as quickly as they could over the dark grounds, Oliver right by Logan’s side. The moon shone high and full overhead, giving them light, illuminating the barren fields, the crooked remains of dry wheat stalks. The wind whipped through the stalks in sudden gusts, making them tremble. Trees creaked in the distance as the wind broke on the mountains. 

Oliver approached the fence and held up the device, and when everyone had caught up he pressed a series of buttons, looking grim.

The fence in front of them crackled like static, then the alarms sounded. Several of the omegas looked back towards the institution, gripping and fraying their clothing. Oliver threw a shriveled stalk at the hole in the fence, his expression deadly calm It went through. Oliver followed it, and the others followed him, their eyes wide. An engine rumbled in the distance, and headlights sprang up over the field.

The omegas ran towards the dark forest, and had reached the cover of the trees when a megaphone sounded.

“Stop, or we’ll shoot,” a guard called, and Logan looked back. His heart dropped into his stomach.

The guard was holding Mama against the fence, bound and gagged. Each one of the omegas froze. Logan heard some of them whispering to one another in horror, while others stared, unmoving.

“They'll kill him, they will,” Oliver whispered, and his expression was heavy with remorse. “I should have known-“

Logan heard a subtle hissing noise, and looked down. There was mist, rising from the ground. “Gas!” he yelled, stumbling. It was too late. It must have been activated once they'd entered the forest, and the few seconds they'd paused had given it plenty of time. He dropped, paralyzed, and heard a gun shot.

They’d killed Mama to punish them, but the thirty omegas in the woods were far more valuable. They were all sent to retraining; some of them were made examples of far more than others.

Logan saw Oliver cry twice. Then he didn’t see him for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rest of the text will be posted. tell me if you like the thing? :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for your comments! :)

**One Year Later**

Logan squirmed in the van, unconsciously twisting his wrists in the cuffs. He just barely kept himself from whining in need, but it took some restraint. They’d already driven for four hours, and they’d given him the heat inducer a day ago. His skin was crawling, and he kept scenting the air for the alpha driver behind the partition.

This was the first time he’d been out of the bowels of the facility in a long time, and it was his first time outdoors since the past fall. Or, he assumed it had been the past fall. Time moved strangely in the caves. It was summer again, apparently. There weren’t any windows on the van, but he’d seen a few seconds of sunlight and green leaves before he’d been hustled into it.

The van was slowing, and Logan perked. His guards stopped whatever game they’d been playing; Logan hadn’t had the attention span to figure it. The van stopped. Thank fucking god.

The house was small, but stately; the walkways were paved stone, the bushes carefully maintained, and the embellishments around the windows looked like marble. Logan paused to take it in, and was nearly pushed to his knees by an annoyed guard.

The alpha who answered the door was… surprisingly young, for someone who could afford a rent-an-omega service for an entire heat. Logan had been told he’d be here for three days, and that didn’t come cheap. The man looked like an Old Money type, though.

The alpha politely let the guards tour the house while Logan sat in the foyer, trying not to rub himself on the ancient looking bench his ass was currently planted on. He gritted his teeth, and waited while the alpha showed the guards out.

The alpha kneeled in front of Logan, uncuffing him, and Logan stayed put when the alpha stood, turning to go.

“Oh,” the alpha said, “right. Come with me, please.” Please, Logan repeated in his mind. The alpha’s voice was friendly; he was plain but not terrible to look at, and Logan felt his hopes rising. Which was foolish. He should know better by now than to judge a book by its cover.

They entered the alpha’s bedroom, and he shut the door behind Logan. Ok, so he wanted to get on with it. Logan could work with that. The alpha sat down on the bed, and gestured to a chair for Logan. Maybe he was shy? It seemed unlikely given his status, but hey, it happened.

“Hello, Logan,” the alpha said, his voice a pleasant timbre, “my name is Ethan, and I’m with the Omega Liberation Front.”

Logan hoped he didn’t have to say that too many times, because it was cheesy enough to kill the mood. He smiled. “You gonna liberate me, sir?” He looked down, shy and playful. At least he hoped that was what the alpha was going for. He’d done weirder shit.

The alpha frowned. Damn it. “I think you misunderstand. My family does business between the north and south, in manufacturing. But I’m a plant for an organization that has a special interest in the way omegas here are treated. We heard you and another omega named Oliver Lowell attempted a large-scale escape, and we’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

Logan’s stomach turned to ice. So much for nice-guy alpha. “Are you going to punish me, sir?” Logan said breathily, going for playful, but this had hit too close to home.

“What- no. You don’t understand, I’m from the north, and we want to get you out, expose the OPS facilities.” The alpha spread his hands wide, his brow furrowed.

That was enough. Logan was angry now, horny, and ready to get past the talking part of this business. It was too bold, he knew, but he stood and slunk into the man’s lap, grinding down. The man gasped, his cock twitching as he felt Logan’s slick wetting the front of his slacks.

“No, I can’t,” Ethan choked, picking up Logan and sitting him back on the chair. This time, Logan did whine, and Ethan’s expression softened.

“Look,” said Ethan, “you can’t consent to this. You’re being coerced, and I bought you with my parent’s blood money... which I have to admit does give me a warm fuzzy tingle, considering my task. I’m here to tell you I can either try to take you North now, or you can stay, and together we can liberate the entire Upper Appalachian OPS facility.”

Logan had never seen an alpha resist an omega in heat before. He swallowed. “There is no North,” he said hoarsely. “There isn’t anywhere the OPS doesn’t exist.” Logan’s hands shook, heat-addled and confused. Was this their idea of a test? They were listening right now, he knew. He looked around for the mics.

“You’re looking for their recording equipment,” the alpha assessed, following his gaze. “They’re listening to a very excited alpha having sex with an enthusiastic omega,” he said dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Anything we say in this room, they can’t hear. I’m assuming, since they don’t let you have clothes, that it would be difficult for you to be carrying such a device.” The alpha’s lip curled, and Logan knew it was genuine. Disgust.

“We thought there was a North,” Logan recited mechanically, “but we were wrong. We disobeyed, and we deserve our correction-“

“Jesus,” the alpha said, sounding angry and looking even more disgusted. Logan flinched.

“No, I’m sorry,” the alpha said, extending a hand, then pulling it back, “I’m not angry with you, I promise. How can I convince you?”

Logan shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I know now, I learned my lesson,” Logan shook. He’d said no to a punishment. Damn it.

“Shh,” the alpha said, and something in his voice and his scent calmed Logan. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’m sorry. I’ve messed this up, I think.” He looked worried, and Logan began to come down from his panic.

“I can’t bring any footage or anything down here, it would’ve been too risky, but look,” Ethan pulled out his wallet, and flashed an ID. It marked him a businessman from the North; it was either a good replica, or it was real. He looked sincere. And he’d been acting very odd for a man who’d bought Logan for his heat.

“I don’t believe you,” Logan said. He’d come too far to get trapped so easily. The alpha sighed.

“Well, you have time to think about it,” Ethan replied. He pulled out a box from underneath the bed, filled with a collection of knotting dildos of different textures and sizes. Which would have worked fine for an omega whose heat hadn’t been induced, on top of the hormonal implant Logan already had. He swallowed, his composure frayed, and tried not to tear up like a kid pitching a fit. He deserved whatever punishment they gave him.

“I was told these would help, with your heat,” the alpha said awkwardly. “I’m going to give you some privacy. I don’t want to cause you any pain by forcing you to talk when you’d clearly rather not.” He stood up to leave.

“Thank you, sir,” Logan said softly. The alpha nodded, and left, shutting the door behind him. Logan thought of the way the man’s cock had felt through his slacks, and whined loudly through his teeth. He’d been interested; why would he leave? Was this part of whatever game they were playing?

He picked up one of the dildos, a medium-sized one, and got up on his knees, dropping to his forearms. He reached around to push the dildo in, and nearly sobbed in relief at the press on his wet front hole. His inner thighs were covered in layers of slick, some of it dry now. The stretch of the dildo hurt going in; he hadn’t prepared himself, and he was too tight to take it, but he didn’t care. The pain sent relief through his body, the pressure forcing him open pleasantly, like stretching a cramping muscle.

The pleasure soon faded, though, and gave way to the full-body cramping and burning of heat. Logan was mature now, and his heats lasted several days. The knot on the dildo wasn’t real, and his body, pumped with artificial hormones, knew the difference. He could scent an alpha nearby, he thought hazily, sweat soaking the mattress. He called out for the alpha with a high pitched whine of distress. He needed to be bred, he needed it now or he would lose his mind-

The alpha opened the door, and Logan presented, ass up, knees spread, back arched. The alpha sucked in a breath and groaned.

“Um,” the alpha said throatily, “are you ok? I brought water…”

Logan was gone. He couldn’t process the words, he just needed. “Please,” he begged mindlessly. “Please, please-“

The alpha crouched down in front of him, and Logan felt a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder. “Shh,” the alpha said, and Logan rubbed against him like a cat, whining.

“Logan,” the alpha said firmly, and Logan felt the man moving to sit against the headboard, “I want you to sit up. Can you do that for me?” Logan sat up quickly, and felt the alpha pull Logan against him, back to chest. Logan could feel the man's dick hardening through his slacks, and he rubbed against it.

“Settle,” the alpha ordered, something shifting in his tone, and Logan went still. The alpha clasped his arms around Logan’s waist, and the grip felt calming, grounding. His alpha would take care of him, his instincts told him.

“Are you listening, Logan?” the alpha said, his voice smooth and deep, hypnotic.

“Yes, sir” Logan answered hazily.

“Good boy,” the alpha said, and Logan warmed at the praise. “I want you to drink this glass of water,” he said, “you’re dehydrated.” Logan took it and began to drink.

“Did you use the knotting dildos?” the alpha asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t seem to be feeling any better,” the man replied. "And you can call me Ethan, if you'd like."

“I- No, sir,” Logan said clearly. He knew the answer to this one. “My heat's been induced, and they don’t work on induced heats. I'm also on a continuous dose of artificial hormones, from an implant.”

“Damn,” the alpha swore, and Logan tensed. “Sorry,” the alpha said, petting Logan’s flank, “shh, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re doing just fine.”

“Please, alpha,” Logan said, squirming despite himself.

“I can’t,” the alpha said, wrecked. “You can’t consent to this, we didn’t have any idea this would happen.”

Logan’s memory returned, his logic kicking back in for a brief moment. “They’ll do an exam. I always have an exam, afterwards. They'll check, and if I’m not open with your cum inside me, they’ll punish me for not satisfying you. And I want this, I do, and I know you want it too, please-“

The alpha sighed, petting him. “Shh, you don’t have to beg for it. I’m not leaving you in pain like this, Logan. I’m not that cruel.” He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt while Logan watched hungrily. He was muscular, but not an amount that would have frightened Logan outside of his heat. The alpha unzipped his slacks, and pulled his boxers down with them, his cock springing free. Logan gave a throaty whine at it, looking hungrily at the knot at the base.

The alpha moved back towards him, and Logan moved eagerly to present. The alpha stopped him, pulling Logan down so that he lay with his back on the bed, the alpha over top of him. “Shh,” he said, “just relax. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Logan sighed and laid back, letting the alpha move over top of him. Logan rubbed up against him, the man’s thick cock grinding into Logan’s belly. Every inch of skin touching Logan’s felt like heaven, and he moaned as the man kissed his throat, petting Logan’s stomach.

Logan was so relaxed by the time the man was kissing his stomach that he’d actually gotten a bit hard, and the alpha smiled and suddenly moved his mouth lower, sucking Logan’s cock. “Oliver,” Logan moaned, half out of his mind. He froze, his heart hammering. The alpha pulled off of his cock and looked up at him, sad and pitying.

“Shh, it’s ok,” the alpha said soothingly, and rubbed a broad circle on Logan’s lower stomach. “You want him with you right now, don’t you?” Logan didn’t answer, but he didn’t panic either. The slow, steady circles felt good.

“I’m so sorry, Logan,” the man said, and Logan didn’t understand. The alpha moved lower, kissing over the scarred line above his front hole, then back over the edges of the brand on his ass.

Logan moaned at the stimulation, and the alpha moved back up his body, rubbing two fingers over his wet hole, which opened easily at their touch. Logan pressed his hips up, taking the fingers inside him, and they pumped steadily, pressing against his sensitive front wall. Logan gasped, gripping the alpha’s fingers, and felt the tension pooling in him rising.

“There you go,” the alpha said warmly, pumping them more firmly, and Logan tensed his entire body and came, the fingers continuing to encourage him through his orgasm. Logan clutched the alpha’s back and sobbed as the pleasure moved through him, finally giving him release, then he fell back, panting.

“That’s just right, beautiful,” the alpha said, lying back and pulling Logan on top of him. Logan could feel the man’s erection beneath him, and he squirmed against it. The alpha chuckled, and kissed his hair.

“Take a breath, sweetheart,” he said, rubbing absently at Logan’s shoulders. Logan melted into his touch. He’d had lots of sex before, with a lot of different people, but he was beginning to think he didn’t know very much about it at all.

Eventually, Logan whined loudly, and the alpha sat up against the headboard again, his thighs slightly spread. The alpha patted them, and Logan moved toward him, questioning.

“Ok gorgeous, come take what you need,” the alpha said, stroking his dick. Logan pressed up against him, aching. He needed to be knotted, bred by an alpha, he needed the thick stretch so badly. He started pleading.

“Shh,” the alpha said, stroking his flank, “you don’t need to beg me. Just take it.”  
Logan lifted himself clumsily, and the man grasped his cock with one hand, and steadied Logan with the other. “Nice and easy,” the alpha said gently, and Logan moaned at the press of the head of the man’s cock against his entrance. He pressed down.

“It’s okay, easy, you’re going to get it,” the alpha soothed. “Don’t hurt yourself, nice and gentle.” Logan looked at him incredulously; this amount of pain could hardly even be called pain, as far he as was concerned. The alpha snorted.

“I’d love to hear what you’re thinking right now,” he said, “though I don’t think you’d tell me.” The alpha groaned suddenly, gripping the sheets as the head of his cock popped in, and he gripped the base of his cock as Logan slid steadily down onto it. The slick stretch was incredible, pressing everywhere Logan needed it, deep inside him where the dildo couldn’t satisfy him. He bottomed out and hummed, pleased, while the alpha beneath him panted.

Logan ground down and clenched experimentally, and the alpha moaned loudly. “God,” the alpha growled, and Logan lifted himself up then sank back down, working the man’s cock in his tight front hole.

“Can I-“ the alpha choked, grasping Logan’s hips, and Logan nodded. The man held him and started thrusting, and Logan moaned loudly and found a rhythm, bouncing on his dick. Each thrust against his sensitive walls felt incredible, and there wasn't any pain.

The alpha was sweating. “I can’t- I need to-“ Logan moved a hand beneath their bodies and stroked the man’s balls, nodding. The man growled and pressed as deep as he could into Logan, shouting as he came. His knot started to expand, and he groaned. “God, god, Logan, are you ok, am I hurting you-“

Logan clenched down on the man’s knot, sighing in relief and kissing him gently on the lips, then shook his head. The alpha moved his hand through Logan’s slick and brought it forward, stroking Logan's cock.

Logan looked at him, wide eyed, then came hard on the man’s knot, milking it. He shuddered and leaned forward into the alpha’s broad, warm chest, exhausted. He hummed as he felt another rush of cum inside him.

“You’re so beautiful,” the alpha murmured, petting his back, and pressing Logan’s face gently into the join of his neck and shoulder. He stroked his fingers gently on the sides of Logan’s nape, and Logan went limp in his embrace, any tension in his body gone. He felt warm, and safe, and the heat had quieted for now. “Oliver,” he whispered.

“I know, baby,” the alpha said kindly. “It’s going to be ok. Are you feeling better now?”

Logan nodded. He nuzzled into the man’s neck on instinct, breathing him in, and the alpha sighed and petted him. He smelled pretty nice for an alpha, Logan thought, sort of like musky pine. He huffed and settled, content. The alpha wrapped his arms around him.

“I really am from the north,” the man said. “The Omega Liberation Front is an organization I’m involved in.”

Logan was silent for a long moment. “I want to believe you,” he said finally. “Who’s in charge of it? Are you?”

The alpha laughed, the vibrations tickling Logan. “What? No. Why would I be in charge of an organization for omegas? Omegas are in charge of the organization, though I can’t tell you who just yet." He nibbled gently on Logan's ear, and Logan shifted, offering his neck easily on instinct. The movement surprised him; normally, he was terrified of the bite, the sharp flash of pain and the greasy slide of his rapist's consciousness inside his own. He felt a huff of air on his sensitive bonding glands, then a kiss.

“We have popular support, but the government isn’t too happy about our existence," Ethan continued, lifting his head and settling against the headboard. "I don't know how much you've been told, so I'll give you a quick run-down. The northern government was happy to end the war when the south freed their omegas. Then the south closed their borders, and told the north about the new Omega Laws and the introduction of the OPS. They said that within their culture, it was a humane option to deal with the population of newly freed, destitute omegas; their PR for the rest of the world insists they no longer enslave their omegas. We’ve been trading with them for almost a century now, and omegas in the north have finally gained the power to come back for their brothers and sisters in the south. That’s why we need you.”

It was a lot to process, even if Logan believed everything the man said. “Why me?”

“Logan,” the alpha said, nosing his hair and breathing in the warm scent of his heat, sighing. “You led the largest revolt we’ve ever seen. You and Oliver were the only ones to ever escape the facility grounds. If we got you to the North and you told your story, the public would be shocked. The south is very careful about its image, and our claims of slavery and abuse haven't had enough evidence. The people would burn it to the ground if they were forced to confront what was really happening, I know it.”

Logan swallowed. He hid in the alpha’s neck, and the alpha ran light fingers down his spine. “You work in the training area now, right? In the caves?” the alpha prompted.

Logan nodded, but didn’t say any more, his head spinning.

“I’m not asking you to believe me now; I can prove it to you, if you trust me enough to let me try. The cave system ends past the brander, which you probably know.”  
Logan knew. He’d been cleaning up the piss and hearing the screams of pain for months.

“It’s part of a larger system of caves, one that runs for miles, and the OPS hasn't bothered to explore it. With their technology, it would take years. Our efforts have found that the rock wall between the deepest part of the facility and the larger cave system is fairly thin. We can blow it, and lead you out. But you have to disable the guards inside first.”

Logan shook his head frantically. “No, they’ll kill us this time, they’ll punish everyone for what we did-“

“Shh,” the alpha said, concerned, petting Logan, settling him so he didn’t hurt himself trying to pull off of the alpha’s knot too soon. “We’re going to help you. I’ll give you a time, before you leave here, to intercept the first note. We can pass small items through a channel, where water that used to flow through the cave dried out over time. You have to convince the others to help, and we’ll send you gas, to knock out the guards. Someone thought it’d be poetic.” The alpha smiled sharply.

“Oh, my god,” Logan whispered softly. This could be real. This could be happening. His reasons to not believe were getting weaker.

“Yes,” said the alpha sincerely, answering his unvoiced conflict. “We can. I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out, of course, but we’ve been planning this for a long time. We believe it could work. It could change everything, to have you speak.” He paused.  
“Logan,” he started, and Logan could feel him grimace, “this might be a difficult topic, but I have to ask- have you seen Oliver? We haven’t confirmed- that he’s alive.”

Logan went still. “Yes,” he whispered. “I’ve seen him.”

***

Logan’s head was swimming on the ride back to the facility. The time of the first note had etched itself firmly in his mind, and he felt something dangerous inside of him, long-dormant, rising again. He felt hopeful. He’d even felt angry when the guards jeered about how the alpha must’ve fucked him.

Ethan had bred him through his heat attentively and kindly, and Logan left feeling whole, unashamed. He’d thought alphas were unable to control themselves around an omega in heat, but apparently he’d been lied to. He’d likely been lied to about a lot of things. Logan had even been given contraceptives, which he’d been surprised Ethan had access to. Ethan had only smiled bitterly and said all alphas in the south had access to them.

He was mopping the floor of one of the training rooms meditatively the next day, bending to wring blood from the mop into the bucket, when Kate slapped him on the ass. He levitated about a foot in the air, and was ready to drop to his knees when he heard the sound of her tongue piercing running over her teeth.

“What’s up, buttercup?” she said casually, her heavily outlined eyes falling beneath the sweep of her bangs. She clicked the tongue piercing again.

Kate had been one of the thirty omegas who had followed Logan when he tried to escape. She’d been put on training facilities cleaning with Logan, hands down considered to be the worst job in the facility and a serious punishment to be threatened with. The trainers hadn’t liked the way she made them feel uneasy, but her clients gave her rave reviews for enthusiasm.

“Kate,” he said, low and urgent, “I have something I need to tell you.” She put a finger on his lips.

“It can wait,” she said, smiling. “Mop closet. Thank me later by taking over the next time someone pukes.”

Logan gaped, and almost teared up. “I-“

Kate had already taken over his mopping. “Fifteen minutes. Go get ‘im, tiger.”

Logan hadn’t seen Oliver for months. He only knew from the occasional reports from other omegas when he resurfaced that Oliver was even still alive. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could through the caves.

The last time he’d seen Oliver, he’d been a few months pregnant. Logan’s first thought had been that it was a miracle, because it meant that Oliver would live. Any children from someone with Oliver’s family name would mean big bucks for the facility, which was why they’d kept him alive for so long despite the fact that he’d never gotten pregnant. Physically, there had been nothing wrong with him, and the facility thought they could solve the problem.

Logan’s selfish joy had faded when he’d looked closer at Oliver. His neck had been covered in fresh and healing bite marks, where before there had only been one or two that had faded. Now the marks were jagged, pitted, scarring thickly. Oliver had dropped weight rapidly, and his warm, bronzed skin was fading in the dark. Logan had only seen him for a couple of minutes before Oliver wrenched his gaze away and walked on, his trainer a few steps behind.

His hand shook as he turned the door handle, and he gasped when he saw Oliver in the dimly lit room. He shut the door quickly behind him.

Oliver was heavily pregnant, and his stomach looked painfully large on his wasted frame. He’d accumulated even more bite marks, if that were possible. His eyes were wide and alert, but exhausted, touches of red rimming the brown of his irises. He looked… like death.

“Logan,” said Oliver hungrily, sounding a little lost. Logan closed the distance, and Oliver pulled him into his arms, the grasp firm despite the muscle he’d lost. Logan couldn’t help it. He started to cry.

“Shh,” Oliver said, “it’s ok.” He nuzzled Logan’s hair and sighed a long breath, like he’d been holding it for a while.

“No, it’s not,” Logan said, trying to bring himself under control. There was something wrong, something in Oliver’s eyes, in the tentative, shrunken way he held himself. “Oh my god, Oliver. What are they doing to you?”

Logan had heard that Oliver had been gang raped and bonded by over ten alphas at once, a punishment for dismantling the fence, but he’d been sure no one could come back sane from that many voices forcing their way into their mind. Now, he wasn’t so sure it hadn’t been true. Kate had only seen him lately with one alpha, though; his trainer.

“I’m okay, Logan,” Oliver soothed, grasping Logan to his chest as tightly as he could. Logan closed his eyes and breathed him in, remembering the days when Oliver held him through his training. Oliver stank of his trainer now, and the scent made Logan shiver.

“I’m gettin’ you out,” Logan said suddenly, “I-“

Oliver stepped back suddenly, panicking. “No, you can’t, don’t tell me that, Logan, you can’t-“

“Never mind, I don’t mean it,” Logan said quickly and softly, trying to calm him. The Oliver he’d known had never spooked, had always had some unfathomable depths of strength. If Logan was fire, Oliver was bedrock.

“We only have a few more minutes,” Oliver said, shaking. “Can I just hold you, please?”

“Yeah,” Logan whispered, and he sat with Oliver, curling himself around him like a vine. “Hang in there,” he said, kissing his shoulder, careful to avoid his neck, “everything’s going to be ok.”

“Ok, Logan,” Oliver said woodenly, but Logan could feel his heart beat steadying. All Logan wanted was to be in Oliver’s arms while he slept, safe from harm. To cling to him until he felt calm and whole again, somewhere that they could be left alone. He would bring Oliver back to himself, in a place with a lot of sunlight, until Logan saw his shy, calculating smiles again. He could do this, he decided. He had to get out, this time. There wasn’t any other choice. He didn’t know what they were doing to Oliver, but he knew it was killing him from the inside out, consuming him.

When Logan had to leave Oliver’s embrace, he could feel Oliver steel himself to pull away, trying not to grasp for comfort. Logan swallowed, and fought tears all the way back to the training rooms, trying not to watch Oliver’s stiff, uncoordinated movements.

When Kate looked up from sterilizing the breeding bench and saw Logan, her face crumpled. “That bad, huh?”

Logan nodded. She held his hand, then squeezed it. “I’m here for you, buddy.”

“Thank you, Kate,” he said thickly. The metal table stank of piss, and he went to clean it. “Do you know anything about where they’re taking him?” He focused on the metal sheen of the table. It looked cruel, unyielding.

“Not much,” Kate said, her tone carefully kind. “Most of what I hear is from Crystal. She sees him more than anyone.”

Logan swallowed. Crystal worked in the Pit, an isolated corridor in the caves used for sensory deprivation. It was torture to learn, and left even the most stoic omegas gibbering and hysterical if their trainer left them alone for too long. And Oliver was in there frequently, with his trainer, doing what?

“She doesn’t know anything more than that,” Kate said apologetically. “She says that his trainer is secretive, and that he’s bad news.”

Logan was silent for a long time, his thoughts growing increasingly dark. The bite marks, on Oliver’s neck…

“You had something important to tell me, before?” Kate prompted, her straight, dark hair swinging as she moved.

He’d almost forgotten. He moved closer, whispering. “Yeah, I do. I’m going to need your help, but I think you’ll like it.”

She smiled, keen, and Logan remembered Oliver’s fierceness with a sharp pang. It seemed to have been bled from his body now, and Logan was afraid he’d never see it again.

***

The notes were sporadic, written in tiny, cramped script. They tumbled down from a hole in the ceiling like crumpled snowflakes in the dark. Each time Logan stood and waited, awkwardly shuffling and craning his neck, like he was looking for answers from above. Then the little paper notes would fall, and he decided he believed in something- that people could and did choose to be good.

There was no way Logan could verify that anything Ethan had told him was true. He'd been conditioned to mistrust, and it often felt like the safest option. But he couldn't do this alone. He trusted his instincts. He had faith.

Logan used a broom handle to shove his replies back through the hole, and the correspondence moved steadily back and forth. Ethan signed off on every note. He got updates on Logan’s efforts to organize omegas across the facility.

Logan was surprised and humbled by their willingness to hear him out, even though he’d brought such terrible punishment down on so many. He was told that before his escape they'd been afraid, that the guards had seemed unbeatable, the security system impenetrable. Logan's escape had given them possibilities, and some of the omegas were ready to fight. They just needed the means.

So far, he’d contacted twenty omegas who said that if gas appeared, they'd be happy to dispense it. The execution of the plan had to be seamless, the timing perfect. If all of the alphas weren’t knocked out simultaneously, they would alert the National Guard, and all of the omegas might not make it out in time.

Ethan also started a side correspondence; he asked how Logan was, how Oliver was. He sent little jokes, and occasionally even flirted with Logan playfully. Logan flirted back.

Logan felt every day pass like sand through an hourglass, the looming emptiness when the last grain fell haunting him. He could feel that Oliver was running out of time. He didn’t know how, or if it’d just been because he’d seen the terrible condition that Oliver was in, but he listened to his instincts. He got these sick feelings sometimes, and his first thought was always Oliver; somehow, he just knew.

“How’re you doin’, solider,” Kate said, winking, though she looked concerned. Logan had bent over as a wave of nausea passed through his mind.

“Dandy,” he gritted, as he bent over to clean up vomit. They were probably starting this kid’s training in deep-throating. Gag reflexes were stubborn.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Kate smiled, clapping him firmly on the back. Logan let out a little oof. “She’ll get the hang of it soon, start taking dick like a champ.” She popped Logan on the nose. “Then, you know, they’ll send in another one, and we’ll start on the blood again.”

Kate had introduced Logan to a kind of gallows humor that at first had horrified him and seemed soullessly cruel, but over time had kept him sane. Every distressed cry of pain and fear, every plea for the trainer to stop, every sob through punishments affected Logan, and he had to learn to not lose it completely every time he stepped into the caves. The trainers knew exactly how to condition each omega to follow their whims, to mold them into perfect models of passivity and acceptance, and they were brutal.

When Logan was getting fucked by three alphas with a spreader bar and a flexible definition of double penetration, he mentally went over the areas of the facility he’d already covered, making sure to moan every once and a while. He kept his hisses and whimpers of pain to himself; that’d gotten him an annoyed slap. Logan hoped his ass was going to work after this, and that going to the bathroom wouldn’t be too excruciating.

He’d covered all of the sections of the facility except for three, he marveled. Maybe Crystal would know- shit. He felt the press of something thin and cold at the tip of his cock, and shuddered. He had once been penetrated with a sound that had a small spike at the beginning of his training, and ever since he'd considered them particularly unpleasant. At least the alpha seemed happy with his shudder of fear and discomfort. He whined when it slid in, the two thick cocks in his ass still going.

Logan’s body hurt most days with the abuse it took, and his ass, which was apparently a crowd favorite, always had a deep ache. But some days were worse than others, and he was always learning new kinds of pain, no matter what he’d been through the day before.

While Logan’s cock burned from the inside for the next few days, he finalized his plans, and informed Ethan. Logan’s side of the planning had been fairly simple, though Ethan had assured him they couldn't have done it without him. Their attempts to encourage other omegas to escape had been quickly denied.

Logan didn’t see what the big deal was; it was clear to him that the fear that kept the omegas from punishment also allowed them to avoid the truth of the eventual result of their subservience. They each had an expiration date, and every day until then would be filled with pain and the indignity of being treated like they were subhuman. Logan was offering hope, and though it frightened most, there were some willing to listen.

The gas would be carried in empty bottles of cleaning fluid. Each section of the facility had omegas who cleaned it, and the bins weren’t scanned once they’d entered the facility. In fact, the only places given particularly intense scrutiny were the loading docks for supply trucks, and the security checkpoints for alpha and beta guests.

The day to collect the cans came, and Logan felt a strange sense of calm. Whatever happened today, he had his role, and then it was out of his hands. He hadn’t seen Oliver in weeks, and he knew his focus. Distribute the cans, find Oliver. They might see him as a leader, but his goal had always been simple.

When the first can rattled through the shaft and fell into Kate’s open hand, she paled, looking at Logan. He nodded firmly at her. She turned it over in her hands, wondering, like she didn't believe this day would come. Logan had believed. There wasn't any other option for him.

The cans carried a paralyzing agent that was only effective on alphas and betas; the opposite of the gas in the woods that had ended Logan’s first escape attempt. It was too humane of an option for Logan's taste, but he did appreciate the symmetry.

At 07:45, the cans arrived. At 08:30, they would be fitted into cleaning containers by the omegas in charge of supplies. At 09:30, they would be in position. At 09:32, they would go live. If there were any problems with the gas in their section, the omegas would be sure to incapacitate or kill the guards.

The cans made it to Kate and Logan. They then made it to cleaning. The cans were distributed. It was out of Logan's hands now, and in the hands of each omega that held a canister. His job was simple. At 09:32, Logan gassed the training chambers, and waited. There were no screams, no fires of dart guns or tasers, no cracks of batons, no enraged shouting. The facility fell silent.

He opened the doors, and examined each trainer than had fallen hard to the concrete with a deep sense of satisfaction. He freed the bound and terrified omegas, and gave them gentle directions. He held one of them, a young girl, while she sobbed, coming down from a particularly nasty round of humiliation. He gave her a wet cloth to wipe off the alpha’s piss. No guards came rushing down. Then static crackled to the speakers, telling everyone to head to the caves.

Omegas began to file down, some of them grim, others terrified, still others looking cautiously hopeful. The wall of the cave blew right on schedule, with Logan keeping the omegas back from the blast. He moved down to what had once been the end of the caves, where little notes had fallen from the ceiling and given him faith. Now there was the wide maw of the cave, gaping into darkness, with the glitter of mineral formations in the shine of Ethan's flashlight.

Logan led the omegas down into the darkness while they clustered together in fear, and helped hand out flashlights to every few.

The omegas grouped in the wide mouth of the cave below, many of them holding hands and clinging to one another. Ethan approached Logan with a stranger, a beta female with wavy brown hair and a motherly smile. Ethan hugged Logan, and Logan sighed, grateful to be held, the anxiety in him building. He still hadn’t seen Oliver. The crowd began to depart, Ethan leading them.

The last few omegas began to trickle in, and Logan frowned. He caught the arm of an omega man with a buzz cut.

“David, did you clear everyone from medical?” he said, unable to keep the worry from his tone.

“Yeah, sorry Logan,” David confirmed, aware of what Logan was really asking. Logan nodded him on. Logan caught the eye of another omega, a woman with short, tightly curled hair.

“Sarah,” he said, and he took a deep breath. “Have you seen-“ Sarah grasped his shoulder. She was from the agricultural unit. Where the bodies were taken to be buried.

“No, he hasn’t been there,” she said firmly. “He’s somewhere else.”

Logan only knew of one other place Oliver could be, and he ran back up through the caves. He grabbed a poker from the blacksmith's on the way. He had no idea what he’d be facing, but he knew Crystal, his partner in gassing the cave system, hadn't checked in with him yet. He moved soundlessly through the pit, till he came to one last closed door. He opened it, poker extended, deadly calm.

Crystal was pinned against the wall by the trainer, trembling as the man threatened her, a knife at her throat. Oliver lay cuffed to one of the metal tables, vacant, still heavily pregnant. It didn’t take Logan long to decide what to do. He stabbed the man in the back before he could turn, and heard Oliver gasp in shock.

The alpha fell to the floor, bleeding heavily, and Crystal moved shakily over to Oliver, uncuffing him. She supported him as he stood weakly. He was even smaller than he’d been before. It looked like the child inside him was devouring the rest of his body.

Crystal led Oliver over to the door, and Oliver stopped, staring at the trainer. The man glared back silently for several long, tense moments, pressing a hand to his wound. Logan looked more closely at Oliver, and saw fresh points of blood on his neck. A bond that wasn’t reciprocated couldn’t last, but a fresh one was still active. He’d felt the trainer being stabbed, Logan thought with remorse.

Thin fingers grabbed the poker from Logan’s hand with surprising strength, and Logan gasped, stumbling back. Oliver's alpha could tell him to do anything while he was bonded, he could unwillingly hurt Logan or Crystal-

Oliver turned, silently staring the alpha down. The alpha growled, still clutching at his wound. In one fluid motion, Oliver lifted the poker. And stabbed it straight through the alpha’s heart. The alpha's eyes were wide and furious, and Oliver looked back into them dispassionately.

Logan turned away, sickened, though he felt he'd just witnessed something monumental, that he didn't fully understand. He heard the clatter of the poker, and grabbed Oliver just in time as he fainted. He lifted Oliver into his arms; it wasn’t difficult. He and Crystal hurried back to the cave entrance, where Ethan stood, looking anxious.

“Thank god,” Ethan said. “They told me you’d gone back. My friend, Leah, is leading- we need to catch up. He put a hand on the Logan’s upper back, and it trailed over his neck.

Before Logan could blink, Oliver had leapt up, snarling, a deep, ugly sound. He put his body between Logan and the alpha, shaking with effort.

“Oliver!” Logan chided, aghast, and Ethan held a hand up.

“You didn’t tell me he was your dominant,” Ethan said calmly.

“My what?” Logan boggled.

Ethan dropped to his knees in front of Oliver. “He’s following his instincts,” Ethan said. “Don’t be angry at him for that.” Ethan tipped his head back, baring his throat, and looked at Oliver.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Ethan said, his gaze direct, and Oliver looked away, his brow furrowing. He swayed dangerously, and Logan steadied him, lifting him into his arms. They followed Ethan, and Oliver stayed quiet, breathing shallowly.

“Logan?” Oliver mumbled.

“I’m right here,” Logan said thickly, trying to navigate a dark cave floor that was rough and slick by turns.

“’M not sure if you’re real,” Oliver admitted, and Logan choked.

“It’s ok,” he said firmly, “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be ok. Just try to rest, I’ll take care of it.”

“Ok, Logan,” Oliver mumbled, patting him on the shoulder, then closing his eyes.

“They don’t know where the cave lets out,” Ethan said urgently as they caught up with the group, quickly and quietly making its way though miles of underground caves. “They can only follow us on foot, and we should have plenty of lead. Even if they managed to call for reinforcements by now, they would take some time to arrive.”

Logan stumbled, and Ethan steadied him. “Are you getting tired?” he asked, concerned. “Should I carry him?”

“No offense, Ethan,” he said, and Ethan smiled at Logan’s first use of his name, “but I’m not gonna let any alphas touch him right now, and I’m carrying him ‘till my arms drop off.”

Ethan nodded. “He’d probably feel anxious, if he scented an alpha, even unconsciously.” He looked Oliver over. “Logan, does he feel warm?”

Logan’s stomach sank. “Yes,” he said. “You’re right, I think he has a fever.”

“Damn it,” Ethan said, looking at Oliver worriedly. “Nothing we can do about it right now. We have about another hour through the caves, then we’re getting into trucks, then we’re loading you into trains that’ll take you over the border. We didn’t want to tell you until now, in case the information was intercepted.”

Logan nodded. He had faith. He had to.

“We have a medic, at the trucks,” Ethan said, biting his lip. “We’ll do our best.”

Logan cradled Oliver closer protectively. Oliver was going to get through this if it had to be by Logan’s sheer willpower alone.

Ethan squeezed his shoulder. “I believe in you both,” he said firmly. Logan felt some of his rising panic spiral away at his words.

Oliver revived twice to stare at the cave formations, calcium-white stalactites and stalagmites rising like ghosts in the dark as flashlights flickered over them. Logan looked at him and smiled, feeling his wonder. Oliver had always been curious; he soaked up knowledge like a sponge, voraciously consuming piano pieces to manuals on SR latches. Logan kissed him, and Oliver settled.

The omegas, naked in the warm summer air, stood blinking in the forest as they emerged from the mouth of the cave. A few disturbed bats flew out, and Logan could hear the drip of water deep beneath the subtle maw.

Logan was directed to a vehicle with Ethan, and given a blanket. He sat down, covering Oliver, ignoring the pairs of pants he’d been given. The medic hopped in from the back of the van and approached him, looking frazzled. He was a beta, and he leaned down to Oliver’s prone form, frowning.

“He can’t be in heat,” the man said, pressing along the sides of Oliver’s throat, “and I'd say there's a good chance the fever is indicative of an infection, though god knows from what. Ethan said he’d been acting confused?” the medic asked, grave. “Yes,” Logan replied, clutching Oliver close. The medic handed him two pills.

“These are antibiotics,” he said. “He has to swallow them.” He handed Logan a couple bottles of water. “I’m worried about the possibility of sepsis,” the medic frowned, pressing a hand to Oliver’s forehead, and watching the way his eyes flickered, “especially in his condition.”

Logan swallowed. Septic shock was a death sentence. “He’s tough,” Logan said firmly, taking the pills. The medic nodded, told him to make sure to hydrate, and left.

Coaxing Oliver to take the pills was difficult, but after that Oliver passed out, sleeping deeply in Logan’s arms. This wouldn’t be a terrible way to die, Logan thought. With Oliver in his arms, relaxed like he felt safe, his exhaustion catching up with him. They were together, and that was all that mattered. Logan buried his face in Oliver’s hair and closed his eyes. Something stretched and anxious in him was fixing itself, setting the world back to rights.

Hours later, with Oliver still dozing, the trucks stopped. Ethan opened the back of Logan’s truck, and Oliver came back to semi-lucidity. Logan’s heart clenched. He hadn’t cared about himself as much when he had taken a chance to trust Ethan, but now that he had such a precious burden, he couldn’t fail.

“We’re at the trains,” Ethan said, and the moon had just begun to rise behind him. Logan nodded and pulled on his pair of pants, then Oliver’s.

“Logan?” Oliver said muzzily, though his eyes were clearer. “Where are we?”

“We’re getting on a train,” Logan said gently. “I’m going to take care of you. Go back to sleep.”

Oliver looked around sharply, then nodded and curled into Logan’s hold.

They were loaded into box cars that had fake top portions filled with coal, while the space below was empty. The cars were hot, but not suffocating, and to his surprise Logan slept while they moved.

Suddenly, the train halted, and Logan jolted awake to a loud banging against the side of the train car.

“I’ve been working here long enough to know smuggling when I see it!” he heard someone shout, then there was silence.

Logan’s heart pounded for a few long minutes, waiting to hear the cars slide open, the screams of omegas being pulled from the train. There was only silence.

The train moved again soon after. Logan didn’t want to know how they’d pulled that one off. He shuddered and clutched Oliver close. He realized that the entire time he’d been prepared to die, but that shot of adrenaline made him aware of how much he wanted to live.

A few hours later, the train stopped again. Logan’s heart rate picked up, and Oliver’s head came up, alert. The train door slid open, and Ethan was standing there.

“Welcome to the North,” he said, grim and smiling. “How about we get you to a hospital?”

Logan stayed still in shock until Ethan helped him to his feet, and out of the door. It was colder outside, and it woke him up. There were tents everywhere, and omegas filed in and out of them, getting food and blankets, looking the way Logan felt.

He teared up, overwhelmed. “Oliver,” he choked out, “I need help.”

Ethan led him to a car, and buckled him in. Oliver let himself be passively moved into one of the seats, and Logan clutched him, afraid. They couldn't make it this far, just for him to fail.

“We have a contact in the hospital,” Ethan said. “I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok see i got them out i'm not that cruel


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okey doke, final chapter will be entirely sex and snuggles
> 
> this is tragic lol it had hundreds of kudos the first time i posted, probs bc I posted chapter by chapter. super interesting to see how much the way you present your work matters though!

Oliver made it to the hospital, but when he was settled into a bed, IV’s inserted and a few nurses flitting about adjusting machinery, he was too placid for Logan’s comfort. Logan was on edge in the hospital; he couldn’t imagine what Oliver was feeling, after all the times he’d dreaded going to medical.

Oliver was shaking subtly, looking at the mass of people around him, and he took in Logan’s presence with something uncomfortably like betrayal. Logan moved to sit on the side of the bed, and Ethan waved away the nurses who protested.

“Why did you bring me to medical?” Oliver asked, looking lost and hurt.

“What?” Logan replied, confused. “We’re not in medical. We’re north, now. This is a hospital.”

Oliver nodded, his expression going blank.

Logan squeezed his hand. “Do you trust me?” he said, low and serious. Oliver worried his lip.

“I want to,” he whispered, and Logan pulled a blanket over him.

“You’re sick,” Logan said softly, “and I’m going to make sure you get help, ok?”

Suddenly, an omega woman rushed through the door, hair askew, practically skidding into the room. She clapped once.

“Ok!” she announced loudly, “everyone out!” She pointed at Logan. “Except you, you stay.” Logan and Oliver stared at her dumbly, and watched the beta nurses and Ethan file out. Ethan gave Logan a little wave, and pointed to indicate he’d be sitting outside. The door shut behind them, and the woman locked it.

“My name is Emily, and I’m your doctor,” she said, extending a hand to Oliver. He stared at it, then shook it. She shook Logan’s hand and gave it a comforting pat.

“Alright. Well, they’re testing your blood right now, which gives them something to do, but we already know you have an infection. I’ve been told your white blood cell count has plummeted, which is not great news, though understandable. It means you’re more vulnerable to infection, and it’s more difficult for you to fight off. Following me so far?”

Oliver blinked, and nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“We’re going to have to make some decisions in your care pretty soon, and I want to make sure you have a say in it. First, I’d like to do an exam; it’s not immediately obvious to me if there’s a source of the infection, since you’re not bleeding out from a gash or anything. I can tell you everything I’m doing as I go along, and I’ll ask your permission before I do anything invasive. Would you consent to that?”

Oliver looked completely lost. “Yes,” he said finally.

She smiled. “Great. Can I take a look at the marks on your neck?”

Oliver nodded, and the doctor moved to gently tip his head up and to the side. Oliver gave a rumble in his throat at the vulnerable position, and the doctor smiled apologetically.

“I know, baring your throat to strangers isn’t exactly natural, sorry,” she said, then turned in her swivel chair to bring an alcohol wipe and a bandage. “I’m going to clean this off,” she said, gesturing to the fresh bite, “it’ll sting for a sec.” Oliver didn’t react while she covered it.

“Well, that wasn’t infected. And yet,” she said, and she felt the swollen glands beneath Oliver’s throat. “Hm,” she said, frowning and looking at one of the machines, “we have you on antibiotics, and your fever isn’t dangerous right now, but.” She gently rolled the blanket away from Oliver’s torso, scanned along it, then asked him to lean forward, and scanned his back. She frowned.

“I mean, I suppose it’s possible you ingested something.” She made a worried noise. “May I touch your stomach?” Oliver nodded.

The doctor felt Oliver’s stomach carefully, and he winced. “The baby feels transverse to me,” she said, pressing a bit more firmly, “which is just your luck, huh? I’m going to see if he can be persuaded to be moved.” She pressed more firmly inwards, and Oliver gasped. Logan grasped his hand.

“Are you in pain?” the doctor asked, her voice serious. Oliver nodded. “Does it hurt here?” she pressed gently on his upper belly. He shook his head. “Here?” she prompted, pressing on his lower stomach. Oliver hissed, nodding.

“Ok,” she said gently, “I’d also like to say you seem post due, and I think that the sooner your body doesn’t have to deal with the demands of carrying a child, the better. I’d have induced you a week or two ago, if you were my patient.” She paused.   
“It’s important that I examine your vaginal canal, because I have reason to believe something’s up, but I want your permission to do so.”

“Yes,” Oliver said, tired, and Logan shuffled up to lean against him. Oliver turned and breathed in Logan’s scent, then sighed. The doctor rolled down the blanket and helped Oliver out of the drawstring pants he’d been given, then gently tapped his legs to spread them. She put on a pair of gloves with a snap, and Oliver flinched.

“Are you okay with me continuing?” she said softly, and sat back and waited. Oliver took a breath, and nodded. The nurse laid a speculum and a tube of lubricant on the bed, and she moved two fingers to gently part his labia. She frowned.

“This may be a delicate question,” she said, “but those look like burns? Maybe electrical burns?”

Oliver nodded.

“May I ask?”

“There’s something wrong with me,” Oliver said, “medical was trying to fix it. I don’t respond properly to alphas.”

The doctor was very quiet for a minute, then stared at the ceiling. “Right,” she said finally, “I don’t suppose you’re talking about closing up? Which naturally varies in omegas, by the way. The electrical burns are from devices that paralyze the contracting muscle?” Oliver nodded, and shivered with the cold on his overheated skin. The doctor moved the blanket up to cover his torso.

“You know,” she said, her voice bitter, “contrary to the beliefs of some, not all omegas were put here to respond to alphas.”

Oliver and Logan stared at her, silent.

The doctor took a steadying breath. “I need to examine you, and the best way to do that is the speculum, but I’ll be as conservative as I can with it. Ok?”

“Ok,” Oliver said, something unreadable in his expression.

Oliver breathed out steadily as the doctor inserted the cold, lubed speculum slowly.  
“Are you ok?” she prompted. “In any pain?” Oliver shook his head. “A little. I’m ok,” he said, a bit absent sounding. Logan cuddled closer, and Oliver petted him.

“Ok, I’m going to open it just a little bit.” Oliver nodded, and Logan kissed his shoulder, running a hand down his side, trying to get him to relax. Oliver huffed out an exhausted sigh.

“Oh,” the doctor said in a small voice. “Ok, well, several things.” She breathed out steadily. “You’re torn, and it looks like this is where the infection probably began. Did someone have sex with you, recently?”

Oliver nodded. “My trainer, every day.”

“Why, when you were this pregnant? And why so rough?” the doctor looked confused, trying to puzzle it out, then put a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that-“

“No, it’s ok,” Oliver said, matter-of-fact. “He didn’t like me. There was something, in my head, that he hated, in how I responded to him. He took it on, as his personal mission. He’s the one who got me pregnant.”

The doctor looked sick. “There are also burns, on your cervix. Are those from medical, as well?”

Oliver nodded. The doctor moved to grab some supplies to treat him, rubbing a hand across her face.

Logan cleared his throat. “Oliver, the bite marks- they all from your trainer? When you say he got you pregnant, how do you mean?”

The doctor looked up sharply from her work. “I’m going to slide the speculum out,” she said, and afterwards she pulled up Oliver’s pants. Oliver pulled Logan to his chest, and laced their fingers together.

“Well, the traditional way,” Oliver said dryly, answering his question. “But, well. Now you know about medical, and that failed. And he was pissed, especially after I tried to escape.” He hung his head.

“There was something, in me, that he didn’t like,” Oliver started to shake slightly, “so a lot of the bond marks, they’re from a group of alphas, at once, I don’t know how many,” Logan sucked in a breath, and the doctor sat down. “And that didn’t work either, and he felt it, how much I hated the alphas, that I wanted them out of me, so.” Oliver took in a few shaky breaths.

“That room, where you found me, I think, he kept me there, and he kept his dick inside me for days, left to piss and things. He was inside my head, saying the reason I didn’t breed was psychological, that I didn’t submit properly to alphas, and he’d stay inside me until I did. And it was like he was pushing against something, in my head, and he got inside, I could feel it-“ Oliver started losing control of his breathing, and Logan nuzzled him.

“Shh, it’s ok,” he said, “you don’t have to tell me now.” Logan took slow, steadying breaths, and tried to get Oliver to match.

“I need to,” Oliver said grimly, “I don’t know how many times I was in that room, or how long, but sometimes it was just his voice, and his dick inside me, and I thought I was gone, and he took my body, I’ve- been confused.” He reached out for Logan. “Logan,” he said, his eyes wide, “did I- kill him? Are we really out?”

Logan pinched him. “Yep,” he said, smiling.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said, “ I need to step out for a second.”

Oliver watched her go, absently playing with Logan’s fingers. “He said he kept fucking me because he was making sure I wouldn’t miscarry, but it wasn’t true. He hated me, whatever I am. It was his mission to fix it.”

“Glad you killed the fucker,” Logan growled.

“I did, didn’t I?” Oliver said, wondering. “He’s dead.”

“Deader’n a doornail,” Logan confirmed. “Skewered by a poker.”

Oliver winced. “Yeah, I felt it.” He leaned back heavily, and started crying silently. “Oh my god,” he said. “He’s dead. He’s dead.”

“Yeah baby,” Logan said, and Oliver kissed his forehead, tears trickling into Logan’s hair. “He’s dead. You’re out.”

The doctor came back in, her eyes red rimmed, but she smiled at them. Oliver gave her a small smile back.

“Last things,” the doctor said. “You seem to be responding well to treatment, and the fact that you’re lucid and your tests tell me you’re not going into septic shock or anything, which makes me feel better. But even without the transverse presentation of the baby, a vaginal delivery is out of the question right now, and I’d like for you to have a c-section as soon as we’re sure you’ve stabilized. How do you feel about that?”

Oliver slumped, relieved. “Yes,” he said. “Get it out. It’s not,” he looked down at his distended stomach, “his fault, but I don’t want to know anything, I just need my body back. I’d rather not see-“ Oliver paused. “Would there be a family, that would take care of him?”

The doctor nodded. “Of course,” she said, empathetic. “I’ll get the paperwork.”

Oliver clung to Logan like he was his only port in the storm. When he came back from surgery, small and stitched up, woozy from anesthesia, Logan gently curled around his side. Oliver’s hand traveled through the small hairs on the back of Logan’s neck, then his palm stilled, warm and heavy on his nape.

***

Logan woke up in the hospital a couple days later and stretched, feeling strangely pleasant. He’d gotten a decent night’s sleep, curled up around Oliver, who was recovering slowly but surely and had started to regain an appetite.

Logan uncurled his fingers and toes like a cat, and it hit him. He wasn’t in any pain.   
He was so used to hurting, now; his skin grabbed and whipped, the deep ache inside him of being fucked past his limits and passed around like a toy. It was an incredible feeling, and he reveled in the sensations in his body, noting the shifting of his muscles, the warmth of his skin. He’d gotten so used to having to ignore pain, and his body along with it.

He rested his chin on Oliver’s chest, smiling contentedly. They were warm, and clothed, and had twined so close together that they were like one person, inseparable. Oliver was on a steady dose of painkillers, and when he slept his face was slack, peaceful.

Ethan came in with a knock, carrying food, and Oliver tensed. Logan could feel it now, every time an alpha entered the room; Oliver’s entire body went into alert. Logan nuzzled him and nibbled his ear playfully, and Oliver chuckled and batted him, relaxing.

“Hey,” Ethan said to Logan, smiling warmly. Logan smiled back, and looked down. Ethan nodded to Oliver, who was looking closely at the both of them. Logan’s breathing picked up a bit as Ethan handed him a biscuit. Oliver smiled knowingly.

“Logan, honey,” he said casually, “did you fuck Ethan, by any chance?”

Logan choked and went bright red, which seemed to amuse Oliver.

“Yes?” Oliver prompted.

“Yes,” Ethan confirmed, the tips of his ears reddening, “for his heat. That was how I first made contact with him. I gave him knotting dildos, but-“

Oliver waved him away. “I’m not upset,” he said. “Not yet, anyway.” He put two fingers under Logan’s chin, tilting it up and making eye contact. “Logan, sweetheart, did it feel good when he fucked you?”

Logan swallowed. “Yes,” he said shyly.

“Good, baby,” Oliver rumbled, “I’m glad to hear that. Ethan,” he said, addressing him, “you can touch him, if you want, and if he wants you to. It’s awkward for me to sit here watching you make eyes at each other, thinking you’ll hurt my feelings.”

Ethan laughed. “Yes, sir,” he said, sincere.

Oliver sucked in a breath. “Honestly, my first reaction there was to beg for your forgiveness, so we may have to work on that one. I liked it, though.” He paused, taking in Ethan’s expression. “I’m beginning to believe our sexuality education may have differed.”

“You could say that,” Ethan said darkly.

Logan cleared his throat, settling in against Oliver’s side. “Um,” he said awkwardly to Ethan, “how’s the placement going?”

The omegas from the Upper Appalachian OPS facility were being shuffled across the north, with hundreds of homes with northern omegas ready to receive them until they could get them on their feet.

Logan had been too afraid to ask Ethan on the first day if they’d come north just to be sent back by the government, but Ethan only laughed.

“I’d like to see them try,” he smirked. "Their approval has really been taking a hit since some of your friends have started to share stories about certain visiting northern politicians. Plus, there’s a law on the books that says freed omegas can’t be returned to the south, back from when we were fighting the war.” Ethan grinned broadly. “It’s way more trouble than it’s worth for them to even whine about it. It’s beautiful, really.”

Since then, the omegas had slowly been moving out across the country, though the OLF had access to lists that would allow the omegas to contact one another.

Ethan sat at the side of the bed now, looking up at Oliver with an expression that made him avert his gaze. Oliver munched on his breakfast, and traced a thin, delicate hand down over his stomach, rucking up his shirt to see where the stitches were.

Logan had been relieved to see the child finally out of his body; it had been like a parasite, consuming him, the stretch and strain of his stomach grotesque. Oliver kept touching his flat stomach like he was reminding himself, and often stared at his body like he was trying to re-incorporate it, to understand that it was his.

“How’s my favorite patient?” Doctor Emily said brightly, swinging in. She pulled out Oliver’s chart to check it. “I tell all of them that,” she said to Logan and Ethan, aside, “don’t let them know.”

Oliver laughed, and then he winced.

“Feel like you got sliced open a few days ago?” the doctor asked sympathetically. “Everything’s looking good,” she said, flipping through the chart, “much better than a few days ago, at any rate. In a couple days we’ll be able to release you if all goes well. We just want to make sure you're hale enough.” She turned. “Ethan, could you step out for a minute?”

“Of course,” Ethan said, shaking off crumbs and moving to the hallway.

“Oliver,” the doctor said, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I want to you to understand something, before you go.”

Oliver looked up at her, attentive.

“What happened to you was torture, plain and simple,” she said firmly. “I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it. I’m going to leave you this,” she handed him a thick book titled Our Bodies: Omega Sexuality, Sixth Edition, “because I think it’s important you understand. There is nothing wrong with you.”

Oliver swallowed, and turned away.

“What you are is normal, and natural,” she continued gently. “Anyone trying to change that because they want it to fit their idea of how people should be, is wrong. Not that people here are always perfectly understanding.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry that all you were told, all your life, was that what you are was wrong and needed to be fixed.” She patted the space next to his hand, but didn’t touch him.

“There’s nothing wrong with your biology, I promise. Only with people who would try to use it, or shape it for what they wanted from you. Understand?”

Oliver nodded. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Sure thing,” she said. “Need anything else from me?” Oliver shook his head.

“Alright. Logan?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Logan said, warm.

“You make sure he eats,” she pointed at Oliver.

“On it, ma’am,” he said easily.

“Oh! And Oliver, feel free to shower now. Just be careful of the incision.”

Oliver nodded. They’d done their best to get the scent of the alpha off of him with washcloths, but Logan was excited for a chance to scrub him down. Oliver had always been meticulously clean.

Oliver didn’t strip until Logan had the tap running warm and the door closed behind them. He sat on the bench with shaky legs and groaned happily when the warm water hit him. Logan laughed and soaped up a washcloth, then began to run it over Oliver’s torso.

Oliver froze. Logan moved closer, his brow furrowed.

“Oliver?” he said, waving a hand in front of him. Oliver’s gaze was vacant.

“Hey, Oliver,” Logan said, soft, “I’m right here, come back to me.” Logan’s tone was even, but he was panicking. Should he be calling a doctor? He dropped the washcloth and ran a slow circle over Oliver’s palm, watching him breathe like a hawk.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Oliver shuddered, his focus moving back to Logan.  
“Sorry,” Oliver said in a small voice, “I don’t know what-“ He paused. “I’m so used to. Ah.” He ran a couple fingers down his torso, and tapped his thigh. “I’m a little messed up,” he admitted.

“It’s ok,” Logan said softly, “we’ll figure it out. What would make it easier?”

“I- don’t know, sorry,” Oliver admitted. “Maybe I should do that.” He gestured to the washcloth, and Logan handed it over.

It was painful to watch Oliver try to summon up the energy to clean himself; lifting his arms over his head made him tremble with effort. By the time he was toweled off and redressed, he was completely exhausted.

When Logan cuddled up to him again, though, he smelled only like himself for the first time, and Logan made a pleased purr when he nuzzled over Oliver’s scarred bonding glands. His hair was clean and fluffy, and his skin was rubbed free of the sallow sheen of sweat.

Ethan came back in quietly around lunch time, moving to the hallway what seemed like every few minutes to answer his phone. He’d been in constant contact with the OLF, which was still mysterious to Logan. Ethan said that they were run out of a small office of volunteers, but that they were also everywhere, and well-funded by donors. Which Logan supposed made sense, on some level.

“How’s he doing?” Ethan whispered, pointing to Oliver’s swaddled, sleeping form.

“Ok, I think” Logan reflected, watching him sleep. “He checked out, in the shower. Scared me a bit.”

Ethan nodded, and squeezed Logan’s shoulder, which Logan gave a pat in return. “I’ll see what I can look into,” he whispered. “Any particular dislike of therapists?”

Logan shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“Ok,” Ethan said. He paused. “We were thinking of where to send you both. Do you have any preferences?”

Logan started to laugh, then caught himself. “I don’t think so. We don’t know anything about the north, you know.”

Ethan nodded. “My parents, they had a cabin. If you’d like it, it’s yours.”

Logan paled. “We couldn’t accept that,” he said, shaking his head firmly.

“Logan,” Ethan said, taking his hand, “my parents made their fortune because of slavery. This might make you think less of me, but. I was born because of an enslaved omega, one that my father must have raped. I don’t have any use for his money; I have what I need. As far as I’m concerned, it belongs to you anyway.”

Logan looked down, processing the information, and Ethan looked away, ashamed.

“Would you like me to leave?” Ethan asked softly.

“What?” Logan said, a little too loud, then he dropped to a whisper. “No, Ethan,” he squeezed his hand, “that couldn’t make me think less of you. It’s just a lot to take in.”

Ethan nodded. “I had a beta mother, who raised me. But I consider my omega mother my mother as well, though I don’t have any idea who they are or if they’re alive. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do, and I have a lot to try to fix. It would make me happy to give you a place to live.”

Logan nodded, and leaned forward, kissing Ethan on the cheek.

“Where’s the cabin?” Oliver said muzzily, and Logan flicked his ear. Oliver smiled, his eyes still closed.

“In the mountains, Ethan laughed, “though far from the border. Closer to our northern border, actually.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Oliver replied. “I’m getting tired of being poked and prodded. No offense to the good doctor, of course.” He smiled warmly at Ethan. “It’s a lovely offer, for the time being. Thank you, Ethan.” Ethan blushed.

“There’s also an omega couple, not too far down the road from the cabin,” he said, “I can introduce you.”

“Is that common?” Oliver asked, hesitant.

“Well, not exactly,” Ethan admitted, “but most people have a fairly blasé attitude towards it. Omegas can commit to one another now, legally. And the mountains here have a way of leaving people alone.”

“I see,” Oliver nodded. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Ethan’s phone began buzzing insistently. “Sorry,” he frowned, checking the screen. His frown grew deeper. “They’re already trying to smear you, Logan. The southern PR troupe, that is. I mean, it’s laughable, but we’ll have to respond.”

Logan nodded, and Oliver sighed.

“I’ll do it,” Logan said quickly. “I’m ready. I have to, for the omegas in the other facilities.”

Ethan smiled excitedly, and Oliver looked back and forth at their matching expressions.

“What have we gotten ourselves into, exactly?” Oliver asked, tilting his head.

***

Before they left the hospital, the doctor made a small incision to remove Logan’s hormonal implant, then offered to remove Oliver’s. He chose to make the cut himself, pressing to remove the implant and dropping it in a metal tray with a grim, satisfied smile.

The doctor informed them that their heat cycles should return to normal, about once every three months. The constant low-grade warmth, rapid metabolism, jitteriness, and the steady release of slick signaling their readiness to be mated would fade.

Logan had turned over his implant a couple times before he pitched it, remembering when Bethany had torn hers out. The trainers had fucked her until she asked for it back. It was embarrassing, to be constantly slick, to get wet for every alpha that touched them, but it was far more difficult to be fucked as many times as they were without it.

“Oliver?” Ethan asked, when Oliver was layered up in street clothes and ready to go, hospital bracelet still dangling from his wrist. Oliver looked at him, feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Sometimes Logan forgot how much shorter than him Oliver was.

“We can head out to the cabin now, so you can get some rest,” Ethan said hesitantly, “or we could stop by the OLF headquarters. They’ve been wanting to meet you. And they’ve been hoping to do some PR with Logan, but I could bring him separately-“

Oliver waved a hand. “I’ve been sleeping long enough. I want to know what’s going on.” He smiled. “Just be gentle with me. Maybe allocate a couch.”

Ethan laughed. “I think we can make that happen.”

Logan beamed at Ethan, and he grinned back conspirationally.

Oliver deposited himself in the wheelchair the hospital provided. He clapped his hands once. “Ok, one of you,” he directed, “wheel me out of here.”

“Yes, sir,” Logan giggled, and grabbed the handles. He made a whoosh noise of out of the door, which entertained the nurses. He figured they could deal with it. He was only 21, after all, and he liked it when he made Oliver smile.

The Omega Liberation Front headquarters (which Logan still thought was an amusingly grandiose title) was a small office in the city with a rickety plywood door. When Ethan shepherded them in, Oliver leaning on Logan’s side, there was a moment of hushed silence. Logan swallowed awkwardly.

Then all of the omegas stood in their cubicles, clapping. Ethan smiled wide and pumped a fist in the air, and they followed with some hollering. Logan tried not to cry, he really did.

One of the omegas stepped forward, an older woman with her hair swept into a loose bun. She smiled warmly, the crinkled around her eyes giving her a grandmotherly look, though her suit was pressed and her lipstick a dark matte red.

“I’m sorry, we’re being rude, aren’t we?” she said, extending her hand. Logan and Oliver shook it, and she guided them to a couch off to the side. Oliver chuckled, and sat gratefully. The other omegas returned to their work, occasionally peeking at the new arrivals and whispering among themselves.

The woman offered them tea, then got down to business.

“So, Logan,” she said, her gaze sharp, “word spread among the refugees that you were the one who led them out, and that you’d been involved in leading the first revolt. Several of them have been interviewed, and the media caught wind of you. Though we’ve encouraged them not to bring Oliver into the spotlight yet, per Ethan’s advice.” She nodded to Oliver.

“The south is making a frankly half-hearted attempt to say that Logan was a rabble-rouser, that other omegas are happy to be at the facilities, and that they haven’t broken any international laws. That’s exploding spectacularly in their faces, due to the volume of testimony. We’d like to put some nails in that coffin.” She took a long sip of coffee, tucking a few wayward strands of hair back into her bun.

“The south’s defense of the OPS system for decades has been that it serves the omegas. They like to point out the omegas we have living on the streets as backward and barbaric, saying that omegas are vulnerable and need to be looked after. It’s absurd, obviously, but we haven’t had enough evidence to counter their claims that the OPS is humane. Until now.”

The omegas had left their cubicles to surround Ethan, interrogating him for information. He swept his hands in wide gestures while they watched, engrossed.

“They’re demanding for your ‘safe return,’ which, of course, is not going to happen. That’s not what this is about. It’s about capitalizing on the international attention we’ve garnered with the allure of learning about a secretive, reclusive state.” She smiled. “Also, I won’t lie, I think there’s a good deal of curiosity about your existence, considering the legendary status you’ve reached. In any case, the public is receptive, and we need to push forward while we have the momentum.”

Logan nodded. “’Course,” he said. “I can talk about whatever I need to.”

“That’s good to hear,” she nodded. “They want to represent both sides of the argument, so to speak, and invite a southern OPS representative to answer questions along with you, Logan, and another freed omega. It would be video conference style, streamed from our headquarters and theirs.” She paused. “They’re asking to interview you as well, Oliver.”

Logan nodded, and looked at Oliver, expectant.

“No,” Oliver said, “I’m sorry, but I won’t.”

Logan looked at him, brow furrowed, a bit hurt. Oliver turned to him.

“Logan,” he said, grasping his hand, “I’m so proud of everything you’re doing here, and you’re one of the bravest, most resilient people I’ve ever known.” Logan softened. “But I can’t answer their questions. What happened to me isn’t anyone else’s business, do you understand? I’m willing to help in any other way I can, but I don’t have to give them that information.”

Logan nodded, guilt re-shaping his expression. “Oliver, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

Oliver kissed his hand, shaking his head. “We’re different, and I like it that way. I couldn’t have expected you to understand without me explaining.”

The woman nodded, as if she’d been expecting his answer. “In that case,” she said easily, “a friend of you both, I think, has volunteered to make an appearance.” She checked her watch. “He should be here shortly. We wanted to be able to respond rapidly in the event that Logan agreed to appear.”

They sat for a few more moments before Ethan called out to them. “Hey Marge!” he shouted. “You done for now? They want to meet their idols but they’re too starstruck to ask.” One of the omegas circled around Ethan punched his shoulder, and he let out an oof.

Margaret rolled her eyes, and made a waving motion. “You meet with our prep people in an hour, Logan,” she said, then disappeared back into her office.

Logan and Oliver were amused and humbled by the omegas' excited questions as they gathered around the couch. They didn’t ask anything rude or invasive, and were mostly interested in the gritty details of their escape. Logan was getting to the trains (with a bit of embellishment) when the door opened, and an omega in a violet, professional dress came through.

“Miss me?” Sugar said coquettishly, and Logan ran up to him.

“Every moment we were apart, darling,” Oliver called from the couch, and the two omegas came back to flank him, casually cuddling. They stayed like that, petting and nuzzling to scent one another, Logan artlessly draping himself across their laps, until Margaret appeared again.

The media prep team did their best to catch Logan and Sugar up on what the south’s typical arguments and counterarguments were, though they said it was best that they were mostly ignorant about the north, because it was what viewers expected.

For all of the hype the interview created, it only lasted twenty minutes, which the OFL said was longer than they’d ever had to communicate with southern representatives.

Sugar began by charming the interviewer while the southern representative had an OPS omega spout off some force-fed propaganda. Logan, it seemed, mostly had to sit there and look sane.

Then the interviewer turned to ask Logan some questions, which he was happy to answer. He talked about branding, and cleaning the training rooms. He told her about burying Bethany’s body, which she seemed particularly interested in.

The southern representative countered that the system was legal, and had several strict levels of oversight, claiming what Logan was saying must be embellished. He might have convinced at least some of the viewers, but then Logan saw Sugar smile. His heart fluttered hummingbird-fast.

“Excuse me,” Sugar said sweetly, “could you repeat that?”

“Our omegas aren’t slaves,” the OPS representative said, glaring furiously. The omega next to him opened his mouth to speak.

“Right,” Sugar said, and the interviewer allowed it. “Except, I was sold to the OPS. I almost died because the OPS forced me to bear children when I was too young to do so, then wouldn’t perform a c-section because it might decrease the value of my body. Which medical experts here have confirmed.” He tilted his head.

The southern representative chuckled. “That’s ridiculous. I’m sure we can send your records-“

Sugar smiled. “Which you’ve doctored, of course. Fortunately,” he handed a disk to the interviewer, “I recently spoke to my father, who in the intervening years has overcome his addiction, and is looking to turn over a new leaf with the encouragement of his counselor. He told me everything I requested to verify the sale of his underage omega son to the OPS.”

The room was silent. “Do you mind?” the interviewer asked, waving the disk. Sugar shook his head with a sweet smile.

They’d only made it through two minutes of the confession when the OPS representative began to shout, demanding to be heard. The interviewer requested he be silent for the remainder of the tape. He was not. The interviewer cut him off.

***

Oliver was leaning over a bright computer screen in the dark cabin, his feet propped up on a ridiculously plush couch, a bowl of mostly eaten noodles to his left. He muttered to himself, poking the screen, and Logan smiled. He removed the noodles and plopped down, turning on the lamp on the side table. Oliver looked up, blinking, owlish in the darkness.

“Whatcha up to?” Logan asked.

“Encryption,” Oliver breathed, “this is fascinating, come look.” They shuffled around till Oliver could point out strings of numbers running across the screen. “This is how we keep the identifying information of the refugee omegas safe,” he explained excitedly. “It’s like a massive puzzle that constantly changes, and you have to code for the pattern-“

Logan listened to him babble, interested, but mostly happy to watch Oliver light up. Oliver had started talking to OLF members when Logan left for his interview. When Logan stepped off the stage, the OLF was trying to recruit Oliver as a PR liaison between the refugee omegas and the international media.

He was kept very busy, to say the least, but his comportment and logic under stress was a thing of legend. Logan learned a whole new kind of smile when Oliver found a bit of southern propaganda to dismantle and destroy.

The second day at the cabin, Logan had heard music start up halfway through fixing breakfast. Oliver had discovered an old upright, polished to a high gloss, and was running his fingers over the keys, muscle memory.

He’d looked up at Logan, full of awe, and said “I never thought I’d be able to play again.” That was when something settled in Logan; Oliver was going to be ok.

Oliver showered with his clothes on, and surreptitiously stuffed the wet clothes in the wash, thinking Logan wouldn’t notice. He didn’t go outside; he’d only gone to the OLF headquarters once or twice, Skyping in the rest of the time.

He slept in the same bed as Logan, but never took off his clothes while they were together, no matter how close they twined. He always had at least one knife somewhere on his body. Oliver often forgot to eat, but Logan was there to remind him.

Sometimes, Logan would find Oliver frozen, staring at nothing; he’d talk to him softly until he came back, only to brush it off. One time, it had lasted over five agonizing minutes, and Oliver had come back reciting garbled pleas, curling away when Logan touched him. Then he’d apologized, and shut himself in the library.

Logan knew Oliver was right there with him; he smiled genuinely, he was playful, and it was clear how much he loved Logan. Oliver seemed to be calmer, more grounded in Logan's presence, but Logan knew he was still far away. Sometimes, selfishly, he missed him.

Ethan always called to ask if he could drop by before he came, saying the cabin was theirs and he was a guest. Oliver genuinely liked Ethan, to Logan's relief, and he smiled behind his computer when Logan would cuddle up to Ethan on the couch.

Oliver said that Logan and Ethan were like rowdy kids when they cuddled, nipped, and wrestled, though behind his reserve Logan knew he was just as playful as the two of them.

Ethan would always leave before nighttime, and Logan would shower. If he didn’t, the smell of an alpha would keep Oliver awake all night, though he pretended it didn’t bother him.

Logan brought up the list of therapists Ethan had sent him from the OLF on a late summer day when Oliver sat in his favorite windowsill, basking in the sunlight like a cat. It was a good look on him; his frame was filling out healthily, his skin starting to regain its dark bronze.

Oliver had turned away and said he’d think about it. He eventually settled on one that he said “wasn’t horrible,” and came back with a list they’d created of things he and his partners could do to support him. 

That evening, he saw Ethan and Logan trying to sneak a load of blankets into the wash. The next morning, when he went to his windowsill, Logan had placed the mountain of clean blankets on a cushion. He stood and traveled his fingers over them for a few minutes. They were his favorite, which Logan knew from his hoarding of blankets at the facility as well as the delighted noise he made under his breath after he unfolded the plush one laid over the cabin’s couch.

Oliver closed the door softly behind him, and sat in the center of them in the warm sunlight, nesting. He cuddled into them and napped. His knife was up on the bookshelf, and he didn’t get up to move it to the floor next to him.

*

The first time Wren and Laurie, the omega couple down the road, visited the cabin, they offered to share a pie. Aggressively. Then they looked at each other, communicating silently, and told Oliver and Logan that they’d have to come visit, because the elderly and infirm shouldn’t have to go trekking in the woods every few days.

Neither Logan nor Oliver were fooled; they had taken one look at Oliver, and decided he needed to get out of the house.

Wren and Laurie’s home was kitschy, full of doilies, wolf figurines, and plastic craft store flowers. A singing bass was proudly mounted above the toilet. They’d named it Fred.

Oliver stared, flabbergasted. Logan was in love.

The couple made it their mission to shove food at the both of them, and pout if they didn’t take leftovers. Wren was firmly kneading dough, her muscled shoulders working, when she looked up suddenly at Laurie and laughed.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Laurie said, sitting down glasses of water in front Logan and Oliver, “we’re being rude, aren’t we? I was just saying, when Ethan was little, that boy was such a rabble rouser.” She smiled, her cheeks dimpling.

Logan leaned forward, excited. “You knew him when he was younger?”

“Oh sure,” Wren said, “his godawful parents dumped him with that sweet nanny in the cabin, you know, so he could have a vacation while they were on theirs. They didn’t approve of us, but we didn’t see why they had to know when we were visiting. Someone had to raise that boy right.”

“I bet y’all have some dirt on him, huh?” Logan prompted.

“Oh, you,” Wren replied. “Well,” she dropped her voice to a stage whisper, “there was that time, when he told us his parents took him out of school, and he was missing all his friends. And he came over and cried about it, and we asked him what’d happened.”

“He said his parents thought it was indecent,” Laurie continued, “that the school kept adolescent omegas in class with the alphas and betas, that it would distract the alphas.”

“I just told him,” Wren interjected, “well that’s bullshit, and Laurie nearly slapped me, glared hard enough to melt through my forehead.”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “Guess what he told his parents?”

“No,” Logan laughed.

“Oh, yes,” Laurie replied. “Cute kid. Glad we raised him.”

“That’s not what Laurie was tellin’ me, though,” Wren said, tapping her head. “She wants to know when you're going to sort through your feelings and bond with that boy, cause he keeps moonin’ over you both. And we know you like him, so we don't see what the problem is.”

Logan froze. Oliver choked and spluttered on a sip of water.

“What?” Oliver said, high pitched.

“Well,” Wren huffed while Laurie glared, “the two of you are bonded, and you clearly like him, so why do you keep walkin’ on eggshells around him?”

“We’re not bonded,” Logan said dumbly.

Wren rolled her eyes. “Well of course you are, even if you didn’t finish the thing properly.”

Oliver stared. “I’m… confused,” he admitted. He methodically diced his potatoes into smaller and smaller pieces.

“You feel things, strong emotions, from the other person? Stuff you just know about them?” Wren prompted, while Laurie dropped her head in her hands and mouthed ‘sorry.’

Logan and Oliver stared at each other. “Actually,” Logan said, “back at the facility, I used to get nauseous sometimes, and for some reason I’d get worried about you. I knew you were bad off, and I could feel it getting worse, that time was running out.” Oliver squeezed his hand.

“You’re saying we’re, what? Partially bonded?” Oliver prompted, itching to read through that section of the book the doctor gave him. He'd been avoiding it.

“Oh good Lord,” Laurie replied. “What do they teach down there, anyway? That’s how bonds work. When it’s fresh, after you’ve gotten physical and such, you feel anxious if your partner is too far away. If they have any strong emotions they project, you pick up on ‘em. Then you bite, and you can hear ‘em, or project your own.” She scanned Oliver’s neck with a hmph. “The hell’s wrong with people, I don’t know.”

“So we wanna know what’s up with you both and Ethan,” Wren prompted. "What are your designs on him? Can we facilitate?"

Logan swallowed. “We don’t know,” he said.

Oliver frowned. “Logan needs to be knotted, especially during his heat.” Logan made a protesting noise, and Wren chuckled. “Shush,” Oliver said to Logan. “I’m happy he’s found someone who cares for him, and can meet needs that I can’t.” He shrugged. "He's not bad, for an alpha."

Laurie looked at Wren, shooting daggers. Wren opened her mouth. “That’s enough,” Laurie said. “They’ll figure it out on their own. They need time, for goodness sake.”  
Laurie and Wren glared silently at one another for a few more moments. Then Wren broke away.

“We’ve been in this house too long,” she said, “and we need a distraction. Laurie says we should teach you how to drive.”

“Yes,” said Laurie, “we’re going into town now. You can take your permit tests.”

“Um,” Logan and Oliver said simultaneously, then looked at one another, arguing via subtle expressions.

Laurie smiled. “Come on, kiddos. Don’t worry so much. It’ll work out.” She rummaged through her purse while Wren washed her hands, pulling out a set of keys. “Let’s do this.”

Oliver made a vague protesting noise.

Laurie tsked. “This is for the good of both of you, young man. It’s a big world out there, and you’re so young. You have a lot to see, and do.”

“Yes ma’am,” Oliver said.

Laurie’s eyes crinkled. “These southern boys are so polite,” she commented to Wren. “Think we can train Ethan to do that?”

“Not to us,” Wren snorted. “C’mon, we have a mission.”

When they got to the DMV and were handed little stapled study books for the driver’s permit, Wren took Logan to one corner of the waiting room while Laurie accosted Oliver. It quickly became a competition between the two to see who could better prepare the other for the test.

Logan and Wren crowed their victory when Logan passed with one more point than Oliver, and demanded the loser buy ice cream.

“I like them,” Oliver said simply when they got back to the cabin. It was only then that he realized that he’d held hands with Logan, even kissed him in public, and no one had cared.

That night, Oliver invited Logan to his nest of blankets, and he stayed with Logan when he touched him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have some porn

Logan went into heat three months and one week after their escape from the facility. Oliver cuddled him, taking in the sweet smell of his heat, and rubbed himself over Logan until he was covered in his scent. Then he called Ethan.

When Ethan walked in the door, Oliver was bundled up for the early Fall weather. Logan was sitting on the couch, hugging his knees.

“Ethan,” Oliver greeted, strained. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hello,” Ethan replied, tilting his head.

“Ok,” Oliver said, rubbing his hands, “I’ll just head out, then.” He dropped to lace up his boots.

“What?” Ethan stood, shocked.

“I want you here,” Logan called stubbornly from the couch, looking miserable.

“Oliver,” Ethan started carefully, “why don’t we talk about this?”

“Not much to talk about,” Oliver clipped out, shifting foot to foot.

“Yes, there is,” Ethan said firmly, “and you know it. If you’re going to abandon him during his heat, I think he should understand why.”

Oliver ducked his head, looking ashamed. He kicked out of his boots and stood awkwardly.

“Why don’t you sit on the couch?” Ethan prompted, soft.

Oliver nodded, fiddling with his jacket. He took it off, and sat next to Logan, whose hands were jammed between his knees. Ethan sat carefully in a chair across from them.

“Logan, honey,” Oliver said gently, “I know you need to be knotted during your heat. Your orientation doesn’t bother me, and I like Ethan. But I can’t be with an alpha, even for you. I’m sorry.”

“You need to trust me,” Logan said earnestly, “I keep telling you-“

Ethan cleared his throat. “I think I should clear something up,” he said quickly, facing Oliver. “I don’t want to be your dominant,” he said clearly. “In fact, I can’t think of anything I’d like less.”

“You’re an alpha,” Oliver replied, impatient.

“You’re an omega,” Ethan countered. “You’re smart, Oliver. If you’re an omega and dominant, which you are, wouldn’t you allow for the converse?”

Oliver paused. “You’re not submissive,” he said, sure.

“No, I’m not,” Ethan confirmed. “I’m a switch. I enjoy different kinds of roles, with different people, at different times. Logan is very sexually submissive, and he brings out a dominant side in me that enjoys that. The thought of being with you like that makes my stomach turn.”

Oliver sat back into the couch cushions.

“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Oliver,” Ethan said kindly, “I don’t want to persuade you to do anything you don’t want to do. But I want you to understand that I have absolutely no desire to dominate you or claim you. Not only because I do my best not to be a rapist, but because that’s not how I feel about you. Honestly, I've had a bit of a crush.”

Oliver stared at him.

“I’d be proud to submit to you, if you ever wanted to have me,” Ethan continued doggedly, “but you don't have to be with me at all to be with Logan. I don't think it's fair to either of you for me to keep you apart. Look at him,” he urged.

Logan was curled into the corner of the couch, hugging a pillow, staring at the carpet between them.

“Don’t you want to lay him out on the bed, mark him until he knows how much we love him?” Ethan urged, voice low. “Haven’t you seen how sweet he is, in heat? How much he needs to be held and filled, how deep he goes under? The first time I knotted him he was desperate, but he’s scared to be that vulnerable, and he feels safe with you.”

Oliver looked over at Logan, who looked away, fiddling with the pillow. “’M sorry,” Logan whispered, and Oliver closed the distance, pulling Logan into his arms.

“He’s always sweet,” Oliver said after a moment, kissing Logan’s hair until he melted. “Not just when he’s in heat. Nothing they did to him killed that part of him, and I loved him for it.”

“Tell me,” Ethan encouraged, sitting back on the chair and pulling it closer.

“He’s bratty, when he’s not afraid,” Oliver choked. “Playful, teasing. The alphas who fucked him, I hated them so much, but I couldn’t stop it,” he growled, and the rare anger in his tone made Ethan shiver.

“They didn’t care about any of that, did they? Logan told me his trainer taught him how to take whatever pain alphas caused him, that he was always hurting, until he came here.” Ethan couldn’t entirely contain his answering growl.

Oliver nodded, petting Logan’s hair. “They had a violin, and they used it like a fucking hammer. He’s so sensitive in bed, responsive, happy to be touched and submit. And they just-“ he kissed Logan’s head. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

Logan nodded, his nose pressed up against Oliver’s neck, and Oliver snorted. Logan kissed him.

“You want to show me how to take care of him?” Ethan asked, soft. “He needs to be with an omega too, during his heat. He needs someone to look after him when he’s under, someone he can trust. You know how he gets when he’s around other omegas. He wants you just as much as he wants me, if not more.”

Oliver closed his eyes, and nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered, nuzzling Logan, and Logan sighed happily, “God. You’re right. I’m not leaving him.” Oliver scratched delicately over Logan’s nape, and they both sighed, settling. Logan nosed up and gently bit Oliver’s ear, and Oliver laughed and swept him into his arms.

“You smell incredible,” Oliver growled. “How long’s it been since you got fucked, baby?”

Logan laughed, squirming. “Months, sir.”

“Well we’d better fix that, yeah?” Oliver said, kissing and nipping the exposed line of his neck, his hands creeping up under Logan’s soft t-shirt.

Logan moaned. “Thought you’d never ask,” he replied cheekily, and Ethan smiled. Oliver hoisted Logan, and raised an eyebrow at Ethan. “You heard the boy,” he said, and Ethan leapt up and led the way to the bedroom.

They stripped Logan while he shivered, nervous and excited, and splayed him out on the bed.

“Ethan thinks you want marks,” Oliver said casually. “What do you think?”

“Yes, please sir,” Logan pleaded, baring his throat and squirming, looking for friction. “Want to know who I belong to. I just want to be yours, both of yours.” Oliver growled and pulled gently with his teeth at the skin over Logan’s collar bone, leaving dark red marks where the fragile veins burst. He raised his head.

“Want to help me with this?” he said to Ethan.

Ethan shucked his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers, which poorly hid his hard-on. Logan was in heat, naked and squirming on the bed. All of Ethan’s instincts told him to open the boy up, to bury his cock deep inside his warm, welcoming body.

Oliver directed Ethan’s head to the sensitive cradle of Logan’s hips, and Ethan bit along them as Logan squirmed and gasped at the overload of sensation. Logan shifted away from Ethan on one side, and Oliver on the other, back and forth, until he started whining with confusion and need.

“Stop,” Oliver commanded, leaning in. Ethan pulled away.

“Hey baby,” he said gently to Logan, “you with me? You feeling ok?”

“Yes,” Logan gasped, and Oliver cupped the back of his neck firmly. Logan moaned, and Ethan gave a small involuntary growl. Logan shifted his hips. “Want you to use me, please,” Logan said, mindless, “want to know I’m making you feel good, want to be good for you.”

“Shh,” Oliver said, “you’re so good for us.” He ran a hand over Logan’s marked torso, and motioned Ethan to join him. Ethan kissed and licked at an array of small scars. The tips of Oliver’s fingers drew gentle lines over the flat plane of Logan’s lower belly, and Ethan kissed the gentle curve above it. Logan arched his back in pleasure.  
Oliver moved his fingers gently between Logan’s legs, running them lightly over Logan’s wet front hole.

“Feel how good you are for us, baby?” Oliver soothed. “My sweet boy. So open for us, ready to be taken.” Logan sobbed, rubbing his hips and lower back against the mattress. Ethan swallowed and stripped off his boxers.

Oliver trailed his wet fingers over Logan’s asshole, coaxing. “Can you take something in here too? He bit the join of Logan’s shoulder and neck, hard, and Logan whined. “How much do you need to be filled?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Logan begged, pressing back against the fingers. Ethan moaned and looked over at Oliver, pleading, his cock dripping and untouched.

“Ethan,” Oliver instructed, “lie on your side, facing Logan, and hold him for me.”  
Ethan drew Logan gently into his arms, and Logan pressed needily into the contact, the soft curves of his body molding to him. Ethan’s thick cock rubbed precum over Logan’s belly, the length of it covering his small torso from the base of his dick up past his belly button.

Oliver drew slick from Logan’s wet front hole back to his ass. He pressed the tip of his finger on Logan's rim in slight fucking motions, kissing his shoulders. Logan opened easily for him, trusting and submissive, and Oliver slowly penetrated him.

“My sweet boy,” he said softly, pressing up against his back so that he was held on both sides, gathering more slick to open him up.

Logan’s entire body was consumed by a shivering, submissive desperation now, and Ethan thrust softly against his stomach, enraptured. “Shh,” Ethan soothed, caressing his nape.

“Do you see it?” Oliver said, two fingers fucking Logan’s ass. “They thought they understood submission, at the institute.” Logan’s eyes were glassy, gone, his body pliant and wanting in his dominants’ grasp. Ethan slipped his fingers through Logan’s wet folds at Oliver’s nod, and Logan cried out at the penetration, shuddering, trying to come.

“They didn’t understand submission at all,” Oliver said softly, kissing Logan’s neck. “True submission can’t be forced. It has to be given. And he gives so much, so beautifully.” Oliver unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock, coating it with slick.

He nodded to Ethan, who held the tip of his cock pressed against Logan’s warm, wet folds, biting his lip to restrain himself. Logan’s nails dug sharply into Ethan’s back.

“Pull his leg up over your hip,” Oliver instructed, soft and firm. Ethan pulled Logan’s leg up, exposing his wet, open holes. Logan eyes were wide, frightened.

“He’s so vulnerable like this,” Oliver said, kissing over Logan’s jaw, three fingers pressing deep inside his body now, “but he wants to give it to us so badly.” He pulled out his fingers, and pressed the tip of his cock against Logan’s open, twitching hole.

“My good, brave boy. It’s ok,” he soothed, “we’re not going to hurt you. We know what you need.” He stroked a hand down Logan’s spine, then wrapped it around his torso. “Just let go for us, baby.” He rubbed a careful hand over the curve of Logan’s stomach, eyes half-lidded, breathing deeply and slowly. Ethan watched, entranced.

“Go nice and deep,” Oliver said, hypnotic. “I’ll bring you back, don’t be scared.”  
Logan huffed out a long, slow breath, and submitted completely, all of the tension leaving his body. Oliver smiled lazily. “Good boy,” he whispered, and nodded to Ethan.

They both pressed in slowly, stretching Logan open. He whined loudly, unfiltered, unselfconscious. He bore down on their cocks, desperate to be filled, and Ethan gripped his hips, pressing deep into his small, pliant body, his dick keeping the boy’s thin legs spread wide.

Logan took it so well, never complaining at the stretch, opening beautifully. He accepted each one of their deep, gentle thrusts, and buried his face in Ethan’s shoulder while Oliver whispered praises in his ear, told him that he was safe, wanted, that he’d never have to be alone and afraid again.

Finally, Ethan came, gasping, his thrusts not speeding at all, only stilling to press as deeply into Logan’s tight, warm body as he could, rubbing his stomach soothingly. Oliver stilled, keeping his cock deep inside Logan. He smiled, pleased, when Ethan buried his face in Logan’s neck, stroking his back while his knot grew.

Oliver rubbed around the stretched opening of Logan’s front hole, murmuring encouragements into his ear, telling him to clench and milk Ethan’s knot. Logan’s body, so pliant and accepting while being fucked, clenched hard around Ethan, and Ethan moaned, grinding against him.

Logan’s eyes flew open, and he took deep, gasping breaths, his cunt clenching around Ethan’s dick. “That’s right,” Oliver said, “just let go, don’t be scared, we’ve got you.” Logan cried out and clenched down hard for a few long moments, his entire body shuddering. Then he went lax, both cocks still inside him, and started sobbing.

Ethan was a bit frightened, but Oliver smiled and wrapped tight around him, encouraging Ethan to do the same.

"It's ok, Ethan," Oliver said suddenly, his voice low and soft. "You did well, you were so gentle." Ethan shuddered, looking away.

“Why don't you tell him, sweetheart?" Oliver prompted Logan. "Was that what you needed?" he ran his thin fingers through Logan's soft hair, soothing. "Did that feel good?”

Logan nodded against Ethan’s chest, still gasping between sobs. Ethan slumped in relief.

“Shh, sweet boy,” Oliver said, tickling his fingers gently over Logan’s ribs. “We’re not going anywhere. We’ll stay right here inside you ‘till you come back to us, don’t rush.” Logan nodded, and hid in the crook of Ethan’s neck, grasping desperately at Oliver’s hand to ground him.

Logan stayed under for two days, trusting Oliver and Ethan to take care of him, sweet and submissive, heartbreakingly gentle. Oliver guided Ethan's cock into his pliant, willing body over and over. He filled Logan with his come until the warm press of his body was home, marked inside and out. Logan was theirs.

***

Oliver had been reading quietly on the couch when Logan came over and dropped his head in his lap. He petted him idly. Logan’s heat was fading fast, but he was always very affectionate. And obnoxious about it, which Oliver couldn’t help but indulge, because it meant he wasn’t afraid of asking for what he wanted.

Logan shifted his face over Oliver’s crotch. Brat. Oliver ignored him. Logan promptly wormed his way underneath Oliver’s book, his head blocking the pages. Oliver put the book down.

“Yes?” Oliver said, tilting his head. “Would you like to use your words?”

Logan opted to bite his shoulder instead.

“That’s it,” Oliver said with a growl, pinning him. Logan giggled. Oliver pushed his hands under his shirt, tickling his ribs while Logan squirmed and yelped. Oliver lay flat, dropping is body weight on top of him. The breath whoosed out of Logan’s lungs with an oof.

Logan was beaming at the attention. Oliver growled, gripping his hair and forcing his head to the side, exposing his neck. He licked one long, deliberate stripe over his bonding gland, then bit right above it. He pulled back and looked at Logan, who was panting, pupils dilated.

Then he pulled back, and picked up his book. Logan whined, and left the room. Oliver heard a chuckle, and looked up at Ethan, who was standing to the side with his hand over his mouth.

“Enjoy the show?” Oliver asked archly, still reading.

Ethan shrugged. “Yes.” He sat down next to Oliver, who after six days of fucking Logan together was used to the contact.

“Needy boys,” Oliver grumbled, shifting to slide the neck of his too-big t-shirt back into place.

“You like it,” Ethan said.

“I do,” Oliver confirmed simply. He put down his book. “I can’t believe he spent so much of his life without contact from anyone,” he mused. “We leave him a couple days now and he acts like it’s years.”

Ethan thought about the way the omegas slept together, cuddling until they twined in the most comfortable position they could find, while Ethan wrapped himself around Logan’s back.

“Positive touch is still pretty new to him,” Ethan remarked.

“Yeah, he couldn’t get enough of it during training,” Oliver muttered, shifting his hand through the cushions for his phone.

“What about you?” Ethan asked. Oliver paused.

“What do you mean?” His hand retrieved the phone with a satisfied smile.

“Did you ever need to be held?” he asked casually.

Oliver laughed. “What the hell?”

Ethan looked at him for a moment. “You keep doing that.”

Oliver picked up his phone, swiping in the password. Even the way he flicked his fingers over the screen was elegant.

“Tell me if I’m out of line,” Ethan said carefully, “but as far as you’ve told me, which you keep joking about, your parents basically dropped off your underage body to an abusive husband whose family ties would benefit them, during the first heat you ever had.”

“Point?” Oliver growled. Ethan sighed and looked up, where Logan was standing silently in the background. Logan gave him a thumbs up and slipped away.

“Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, a little cruel? Were you ever upset about it, or anything else?”

“What do you fucking think?” Oliver looked at him, askance.

“I think,” Ethan replied tentatively, answering his sarcastic question, “that you’ve been fighting a lot of people, with a lot of power over you, for a long time. That any inch you gave them, they’d take a mile.”

“Not inaccurate,” Oliver shrugged.

Ethan winced. “I think,” he continued doggedly, “that you’re so used to fighting, that if you wanted to be comforted, you wouldn’t know how to ask.”

Oliver was quiet for a long time.

“Sorry,” Ethan said, and he started to get up.

“No, wait,” Oliver said softly. “Why are you asking?” He looked up, and Ethan knew there was a right answer and a wrong answer. He swallowed.

“You were so good to Logan,” he answered. “Like you knew exactly what he needed. And I think you’re both so in tune with each other, because you went through what he did, and you know what you needed. You’re happy to give it to him, I know.”

“I don’t want what Logan wants,” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow. “I thought we had this conversation.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Ethan made a small frustrated noise, thinking. “I know you’re a top; you’re happy that when you’re in charge, Logan enjoys submitting. You get to watch him go under for you, to see how good it makes him feel. It’s why you like seeing him knotted. There’s a difference between that, and needing to be comforted. It’s just human.”

“Are you lusting after being my big spoon?” Oliver chuckled, raising his eyebrows. Ethan relaxed a bit. At least he was laughing.

“It’s an offer,” he said stubbornly.

“You’re so genuine,” Oliver boggled. “I don’t know how to deal with you.”

Ethan turned, and splayed his arms wide. “I’ve been told I’m warm.” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes earnest. “I just want to be close to you. I care about you, and I’m grateful for how you take care of Logan. You understand him in ways I can’t.”

“You’re very sweet,” Oliver said softly.

Ethan ducked his head. Oliver shuffled closer, and Ethan breathed slowly, unmoving. He felt that if he twitched, Oliver would startle. He felt the warm press of Oliver’s body against his side.

“What are you thinking?” Ethan said, not looking at him. Oliver scented him, then sighed.

“You’ll use this against me,” Oliver replied casually. “I’m being stupid.” He moved sideways onto Ethan’s lap. Ethan held his breath. “You’re kind. I can’t trust you. I obviously have trusted you, anyway. Lean back.”

Ethan leaned back. Oliver settled his head on Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan started breathing again, and Oliver chuckled.

“You were holding your breath,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Ethan whispered.

“I feel more sane than I thought I would,” Oliver mused. “You can put one arm around me.”

Ethan wrapped an arm around Oliver, holding him close, and sighed, scenting his hair. Oliver made a pleased noise.

“Don’t hate it,” Oliver said shortly, closing his eyes, and Ethan felt like he’d won a medal. Logan moved back into the room, a foot creaking on the floorboard. Oliver looked up sharply.

“Hi,” Logan said with a soft smile. He landed lightly on the couch, and kissed the back of Oliver’s shoulder. He snuggled up against him. “We should do this more often,” he commented.

“This was a clever plot by the both of you, wasn’t it,” Oliver mused, trapping Logan’s hand and kissing it. Logan shrugged.

“I figured you needed some encouragement,” Logan replied, unashamed. “Ethan was very brave, I thought.”

Oliver laughed. “You talk about me like I’d eat him alive.”

“He thought you would,” Logan countered.

“Good,” Oliver answered. He kissed Ethan’s shoulder, and settled his face in the crook of his neck.

Ethan stroked his side slowly, rhythmically, and felt Oliver sigh. “I’d like to point out,” he said, “that only one of us tore a chunk of flesh out of someone’s throat with their teeth and stabbed someone through the heart with a poker. Which is terrifying, by the way.” He felt Oliver smile.

“I mean, it’s kind of hot,” Ethan admitted. Oliver slapped him lightly. Ethan grinned. “Sorry, sir.” Oliver groaned.

“Shh,” he commanded, “I’m comfortable, and you’re ruining the mood.” Ethan shut up, and shared a smile with Logan over Oliver’s head.

When Oliver finally checked his phone, the North had officially ended trade with the South. As had most other countries, pending a UN review of the OPS system.  
An hour later, the UN committee contacted Oliver. He and Logan were happy to assist.

***

“This is insane,” Logan huffed. 

“I’m fine,” Oliver gritted, fingers clicking away on the keyboard. Logan nuzzled him, breathing in the comforting scent of his heat, and Oliver batted him away. 

“After the meeting,” Oliver patted Logan’s head with one hand while still looking at the screen. He was probably trying to touch Logan’s hair; he ended up somewhere in the region of his face. Logan licked his palm. 

“Cancel it.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Oliver said, exasperated. “It’s not like I’m sick.”

“You’re in pain,” Logan countered, and Oliver snorted. “I don’t like it. Tell them you can’t make it.”

“Yes,” Oliver said dryly, “I’ll just tell the UN I’m in heat, then. My dignity will recover in, maybe a century.” 

Logan frowned. “’S not like you can help it. It’s just biology. If they don’t understand that, that’s their problem.” 

“I can help it,” Oliver said stubbornly. “They can’t smell me on the other side of the screen.”

“Ok,” Logan ran his fingers down Oliver’s arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to say you can’t do it if you set your mind to it. I think you know that.” 

Oliver stopped typing, and leaned over to kiss Logan’s forehead. “I know. I’m just.” He stopped. 

“How ‘bout this,” Logan started, leaning over to check the time computer screen. “Time’s your meeting?” 

“3:00.” Oliver grimaced. 

“Ok, so about an hour from now. How many times do you think I can make you come in an hour?” Logan leaned in to lay a kiss on Oliver’s sensitive bonding gland. 

Oliver closed his computer screen and looked over at Logan, pupils blown. Logan grinned. 

“Forty-five. Um,” Oliver pulled out his phone. “Forty-five minutes, I’m setting an alarm. Fifteen to clean up.” He set the phone down and put the computer on the floor, and Logan pounced. 

Logan pinned Oliver to the couch, rubbing against him eagerly, seeking skin. He tried to unbutton Oliver’s shirt and failed miserably on the third button. “Tricky,” he muttered, and Oliver laughed and undid it himself. 

“You’d think I was the one in heat,” Logan muttered, working on his pants. Clasps were a menace. “How’re you so calm?” 

“I’m not,” Oliver panted, urging Logan back up. Logan worked over Oliver’s throat, careful not to bite. Oliver’s hands were shaking where they hovered and stroked Logan’s back. 

“Come on,” Logan urged, “it’s ok, no one here but you and me.” Oliver nodded, and buried himself in Logan’s touches, in his scent, pulling him close and nosing along his jaw. Logan followed him, turning to catch Oliver’s lips, then leaned in to deepen his kiss. Oliver whined into his mouth, bucking up against him in a steady grind. 

Oliver’s scent was sharp now, and Logan was getting slick from where he was rubbing up against him. He reached down between them, gently stroking Oliver’s cock, and made his way between his thighs, tracing his fingers gently between them, making sure not to startle him. 

He hadn’t been able to get a finger inside Oliver yet without his body shying away in remembered pain, but that was just fine. Logan balled up his fingers, and ground his knuckles against Oliver’s cunt. He was so wet that the slick coated his entire hand. He probably had been for a while. Oliver let out a sob, then turned away, still thrusting against Logan’s belly. 

“’S ok,” Logan soothed. He wasn’t as good with words as Oliver was, and sometimes he wasn’t sure what to say. He just hoped it was enough. He bent down to lick at Oliver’s nipples, swollen with the surge of hormones, and Oliver moaned, his hand gripping at Logan’s shoulder. He watched Logan as he made his way down his body, kissing gently down the length of the pink scar on his abdomen. 

“I love you,” Oliver said suddenly. “I do, I’m so lucky.” He gasped. Logan had started licking in the gentle dip above his hips, pressing on his lower belly with one hand. 

“I know,” Logan smiled cheekily. “May I suck your cock now, sir?”

“I-I shouldn’t let you get away with that,” Oliver stuttered. “But I think it’d be punishing me more than you, at the moment.” Logan kissed the tip of his cock, and his breath caught. Oliver gripped Logan’s hair and pulled his mouth down onto his cock.

“You’re such a brat,” Oliver groaned, staring at Logan where he was moving up and down in a smooth, liquid motion between his legs. “My good, sweet brat. Are you going to take everything I give you?” 

Logan pulled off. “Yes, sir,” he said easily. There was no other answer. It was Oliver. He would do anything. And Oliver would never hurt him with it, never take more than he could give. Never ask without offering whatever parts of himself he could share in return. 

“Good boy,” Oliver said softly, gripping Logan’s hair with just a hint of pain, using him the way he liked. Logan felt himself getting wet, but ignored it, focusing on his task. Oliver started thrusting, fucking his mouth, and Logan loosened his jaw and took it. 

He’d deep-throated Ethan a few times, and that was hot as hell, but sometimes it was nice to have Oliver’s smaller cock in his mouth. It was easier to relax into it, to not have to think, and know he was still giving his dominant pleasure. He moaned, and Oliver cursed. 

“Love that, how much you love it,” Oliver panted, and Logan looked up at him, just under the surface where subspace was hazy, pleasant. He ground his knuckles against Oliver’s cunt, feeling him tensing. 

Oliver gripped his hair with a growl, gritting his teeth, and tensed, seminal fluid spilling over Logan’s tongue. Logan milked his cock through his orgasm, swallowing greedily, till Oliver pulled him off and up to kiss his cum out of Logan’s mouth. 

Logan leaned back, and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “One.” 

Oliver shook his head fondly, then flipped them, kissing Logan hungrily. 

*

Three orgasms later, the alarm beeped. Oliver groaned, and Logan squeezed him tight where they were pressed together, a tangle of limbs. Oliver darted a hand out to shut the alarm off. 

Logan kissed him, then stood. Oliver made a sad whining noise through his teeth, distinctly omegan. Logan’s heart clenched, but he squared his shoulders. He knew what Oliver would want. 

“This is important to you,” Logan said, making his way to the bathroom for a wet cloth. “You’ll be upset, later, if you don’t. It should be easier to make it through the meeting now.” He brought back the warm cloth, cleaning him. Oliver tried to snatch it from him unsuccessfully, and made a face. 

“Nope,” Logan said. “My job. Sir.” He kissed Oliver’s foot. They were equal outside of their sexual dynamic, sure, but Logan liked saying Oliver’s title. It made him feel calm, grounded. 

Logan cleaned Oliver gently, and then helped him back into his clothes. Oliver’s layers of distance and control quickly snapped back into place, but he seemed better now, like he was breathing easier. 

Oliver had his laptop open, setting up the call, and Logan sat at his feet. It was easier for an omega to be near their partner while they were in heat; the need didn’t seem so frantic, the lack of satisfaction so dire. Oliver stroked gentle fingers through Logan’s short hair. 

“Thank you,” Oliver said softly. Logan closed his eyes, turning to rub his cheek against Oliver’s hand, kissing his palm. 

“You’ve got this,” Logan said confidently. “And after, you get to fuck me as much as you want.” 

“Yes,” Oliver promised. 

Epilogue 

Ethan fiddled with the cabin keys through his fingers, went to the front door, and knocked anyway. Logan answered with a puzzled smile, but he didn’t ask, just leaned up to kiss Ethan hello.

Ethan kissed back and gave him a strained smile, then nodded toward where Oliver was passed out on the couch. Logan patted his shoulder and let him go, disappearing silently back into the kitchen.

Ethan could see the moment when Oliver scented an alpha in the cabin; his entire body tensed, even in sleep. He was swaddled in one of the zip up hoodies he favored, hands hidden in the sleeves. In an outfit like this, and wearing the scent masking lotion he used whenever he went out, Oliver might pass as a beta. Ethan had seen him apply it in the mornings, right over the thick lines of scarring that marred his scent glands.

A part of Ethan was glad that Oliver chose to mask his scent in public, attempted to hide himself away from the dangers Ethan had seen all too often in his line of work. It was a selfish relief born of fear, and one that he’d never voice, as if he had a right to say how any omega presented themselves in public. In a better world, one that they all fought for, it shouldn’t even be a damn concern.

But no matter what Oliver did, the danger would still be there to anyone who looked close enough. He was free here, sure, but he was still an omega, vulnerable. Would it be his height that gave him away, the curve of his hips, the softness of his skin?

The surge of protectiveness and fear he felt must have made his scent stronger, because Oliver’s eyes had slitted open, watching him.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Oliver asked shrewdly, then coughed to clear his throat. The noise was loud in the silence. The tap in the kitchen ran, then stopped. Ethan’s brow furrowed, and he sighed, shifting in place from a polite distance.

Oliver sat up, and patted the couch. “Sit,” he said, in that voice that directed Ethan just enough, that he needed. He sat, and Oliver waited.

“I went to the doctor today,” Ethan started, and he paused. Oliver went very still.

“Are you?” Oliver left the words hanging, and Ethan realized his blank expression probably meant he was panicking in his controlled way.

“Oh, no,” Ethan said. “I’m fine.” Oliver breathed out.

“He said something that upset you, though?” Oliver prompted.

“Yes,” Ethan replied, grateful. This was why he came to Oliver; sometimes, he could say the words so Ethan didn’t have to, could listen without judgment.

Ethan rolled his neck on his shoulders, stretching, then darted a glance at Oliver. “May I?” he asked softly, raising a hand.

Oliver leaned against him, and Ethan ran a hand down his side, petting. Ethan could feel himself calming down.

“I’m ok,” Oliver said. “We’re safe.”

Ethan nodded. “Thank you,” he replied, a little embarrassed.

“The doctor,” Oliver prompted. Ethan ducked his head.

“Well, he knows I’m… here with you and Logan now,” he kept up the steady petting. “And he’s talking to me, and he just says, ‘Have you considered breeding your omegas yet?”

Oliver nodded.

“He said I should ‘do it while I was young’, and I,” Ethan winced.

“You choked,” Oliver filled in.

“Right,” Ethan said, his petting growing a bit erratic. “And he said, ‘Are they giving you trouble?” He mimed the doctor’s words. “They just need a firm hand. You’re the alpha; they’ll understand, even if they don’t like it at first. It’s better for them, it’s just biological.’” Ethan’s hand dropped, and his face wrinkled in disgust. Oliver just nodded.

“Then he said some other stuff, about ‘feisty’ omegas struggling, laughed about it. I wanted- well, I really wanted to hurt him, but he thought I was quiet because I was listening. Then I finally said something, made him shut up.” Ethan buried his face in his hands. “It made me never want to touch my dick again, honestly.”

Oliver pulled Ethan’s head gently towards his chest. Ethan buried his face in Oliver’s shoulder, and Oliver ran his fingers through his hair. “We’re ok,” Oliver said gently.  
“How about, ‘Ethan, I’d stab you if you ever tried to rape me?’” he mumbled. “That, that would make me feel better.”

“Ethan,” Oliver said dryly, “you know I’d stab you if you tried to rape me.” Oliver patted his head. “You have my word.”

Ethan didn’t laugh. “God, it’s all so awful. How do you live with it? Doesn’t it make you tired?”

“It does,” Oliver said simply. He leaned back, and Ethan looked up, his eyes catching the scarring on his neck for a few seconds too long.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

“No, it’s okay,” Oliver said steadily. “You can look. You know what thinking like that does. How dangerous it is.” Ethan looked away, and Oliver squeezed his hand. They sat like that for a bit, lost in thought.

“Do you, though?” Oliver asked suddenly, curious.

“Do I what?” Ethan frowned.

“Would you like to have a child?” Oliver said contemplatively, and Ethan froze.

“I can’t- I didn’t-“ Ethan said quickly, and Oliver shushed him.

“It’s not a trick question, honey, and it’s not going to be the deciding factor.” Oliver poked him. “Just give me an answer.”

Ethan swallowed. “Yes. I would like to have a child.”

“Ok,” Oliver said easily. “Have you asked Logan what he wants?”

“I couldn’t,” Ethan paled.

“Ah,” Oliver said. “Logan?” he called. They heard a clatter from the kitchen. Oliver patted Ethan’s shoulder. “He’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions. Plus he may have said something about it, the other night.”

Logan strode in, licking jam off of his fingers. “Yeah?”

“Come sit,” Oliver said. “We were just talking about you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow and walked towards the couch, pointedly ignoring an empty chair. He sat in Ethan’s lap. “You look like you need this.” He pecked Ethan’s cheek, and looked him over. “Did Oliver scare you?”

“I can’t be blamed for his present state, unfortunately,” Oliver intoned. “Creepy doctor. Thinks Ethan should have his feisty omegas on all fours twice a day till they’re properly knocked up and in their place.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. “Kinky. Sounds fun. I like it when a big strong alpha holds my hips while I struggle a little.” He bumped Ethan’s shoulder. “Maybe you could tie me down, teach me my omega duties.”

Ethan groaned. “Please don’t joke about this. He wasn’t joking.”

Logan shrugged. “I’m not. Well, ok, there was some gallows humor in there. But I love it when you hold my hips, get a little rough.” Ethan covered his face with one hand. “I get it though, the guy was actually into advocating rape. Sorry you had to hear that shit, honey.” Logan settled into Ethan’s lap, and Ethan wrapped his arms around him.

“How do you feel about children, Logan?” Oliver asked.

Logan nodded. “Yes, I’d like to have a baby. You know that. That why you were talking about me?” Logan coughed at Ethan’s sudden surge of pheromones, and patted his shoulder. “Someone’s interested.”

“I thought-“ Ethan whispered, and Logan looked over at Oliver.

“He didn’t want to ask me,” he said, and Oliver nodded. “Good thing we have you to save us from ourselves.”

“Good thing,” Oliver agreed.

Ethan huffed, dropping his head, and licked over Logan’s bonding gland. Logan whined.

“Wait,” Logan said thickly, “we were talking. Semi important.”

Ethan made a noise, and chose not to resurface.

“Ok,” Logan said, tipping Ethan’s chin up, “I’ll be serious, just for you.” His teeth made an audible grinding noise. “The first time I was pregnant, it wasn’t my choice. I think it was probably my trainer who bred me. Or maybe that asshole kid who took my virginity. Though who the hell knows, really. I.” He sighed. “I wasn’t happy to be carrying some rapist’s kid, and I know that’s all they saw me as. Some alpha’s wet hole to fuck, a breeding bitch.”

Ethan controlled his expression and watched him silently, attentive. Logan took one of Ethan’s hands between both of his smaller ones, played with his fingers.

“When they took my child away,” he took a breath, steadied his tone, “it was one of the worst things that ever happened to me. I didn’t want to be forced to have a child; I wasn’t ready, physically, mentally. But I still wanted her. I carried her inside me, and when they took her away it felt like I lost a part of myself. Hollowed out.”

Ethan gripped his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Logan nodded. “Rape isn’t sex. Being bred by my rapists isn’t the same as me choosing to have a child.” He looked up, into Ethan’s eyes. “I love you, and Oliver, so much. I can carry our child. And I want to.”

Ethan hugged him. Oliver’s eyes were flicking between them both, looking satisfied.

“Never want to hurt you,” Ethan said.

“Were you listening to what I just said?” Logan muttered into his chest. “’Cause I prepared that one, and I ain’t going to repeat it.”

Ethan snorted. “I was listening.”

“Great, good.” Logan leaned back. “So, I was thinking. I go into heat in two months. And chances of conception are much higher with a bond.” He poked Ethan.

“That so?” Ethan mused. Logan poked Oliver.

“Just saying,” he teased, his smile shaky.

“Logan,” Oliver started carefully, “I know what it means for you to offer to have our child, to trust us with that part of yourself. And I want you to be happy.”

“But,” Logan said. His smile slipped.

“If you want to add my ova, there’s a good chance the child will be an omega.” Oliver’s gaze was shuttered.

“Then we’ll love them,” Ethan said fiercely, and Logan nodded.

“That’s not a problem,” Logan said, eyes narrowed. “You’re making it sound like a problem.”

Oliver looked away. “Love is important, but it isn’t everything. There’s safety, and other things that are just as important, things about the world we don’t have any control over. I just want to make sure we’ve thought about it, that we’re prepared, before we decide.”

“We’ll just have to work on making it safer, then,” Logan said fiercely, and his tone ended any arguments. “For everyone.”

Oliver nodded. “Ok, sweetheart.” He smiled. “We’re getting pregnant?”

Logan grinned.

“Well, I think you’re right. We’d better bond, then.”

*

Two Months Later

Ethan fussed with the edge of the sheet. He straightened it. He stood back, assessing. He pulled it taught on the other side.

“We’re going to rumple them in seconds,” Oliver commented, entering the bedroom. He straightened the other corner.

“It’s tradition,” Ethan muttered. “It’s important. We have to do it right.” The shower cut off in the next room. Oliver held Ethan’s hand.

“It’s just us,” Oliver said, reciting, like he’d said it to himself a couple hundred times. “People have done this before us, and everything was fine.”

“Lots of people,” Ethan said. The room was very quiet.

Logan stumbled in, sweating with heat, his scent thick with the absence of his contraceptives. “Are you fortifying yourselves to fuck me, cause-. Actually, I don’t know where I was going with that one. Just fuck me. Please. Now would be good.”  
Ethan walked over and picked him up, bridal style, over the threshold. Logan snorted.

“Oh, my god.” Ethan dropped him down onto the sheets. Logan blinked. “You got the sheets. They’re… very soft.” Oliver and Ethan flanked him, and Logan stripped off his pajama pants. “You know, when I said I wanted to do it the traditional way, I meant on all fours, with a couple of well-placed love bites. If you got that weird high calorie cracker stuff, I’m going to laugh at you.”

Ethan flushed.

“Lord.” Logan tipped his head back. “Lets get this show on the road. Waiting for peak fertility is bull and if one of you doesn’t fuck me soon I’m gonna go fuck myself.” Logan’s brow furrowed. “Please don’t tell our kid I said that. I’ll never live it down.”

Oliver moved in closer, pulling off his shirt while Ethan stripped, and wrapped his hand around the back of Logan’s neck, cupping his head. He pressed his lips against Logan’s, and Logan opened easily for him, moaning. Oliver ran his thumb over Logan’s bonding gland, swollen with his heat, warm to the touch.

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please, no more teasing, you promised.”

“I did,” Oliver said. “You ready for me, sweetheart?”

Logan shivered. “Yes. Want you.” He bared his throat, offering.

Oliver growled softly, leaned in, kissed over the vulnerable skin. Then he bit gently, slowly, his canines sinking into the skin. Logan moaned loudly, and Oliver held fast for a few moments.

Oliver finally pulled back, licking firmly at the injured skin until Logan tugged him off. Logan’s eyes were shining, lost in the rush of Oliver’s thoughts and feelings, open for him to see. Oliver could still chose to hide them from Logan, and likely would in the future, but it wouldn’t be right, not now. “It’s ok,” Logan said, and Oliver looked down. “We’re going to be ok. You take such good care of me.”

Ethan had been looking away from both of them, giving them privacy. Oliver bared his throat.

“Are you sure?” Logan asked, serious. Ethan wouldn’t be bonding Oliver, not today. But Oliver had wanted to reciprocate his bond with Logan, no matter how much it terrified him.

“Yes,” Oliver said, and he rubbed his fingers over the less marked side of his throat, encouraging the scent. His fingers shook a bit, and Logan held them.

“I know how much you love me,” Logan said. “I never doubted. I was never alone, because I had you.” He kissed Oliver’s bonding gland. “Love you.”

“Do it,” Oliver said, keeping himself still. “I trust you.”

Logan pierced the skin with the sharp tips of his canines, and Oliver gasped. Logan licked the wounds, and looked up quickly, worried. “Oliver?”

Oliver pulled Logan into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Need a minute.” After a few minutes of matching Logan’s breathing, he pulled back, and traced Logan’s face with his fingertips. Logan turned and kissed his hand.

“My sweet boy,” Oliver said wonderingly. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Logan smiled, and he squirmed a little. “You gonna get me ready so Ethan can fuck me?”

Oliver laughed. “One track mind.” He kissed Logan. “Be good for me just a little bit longer.”

Ethan was smiling at them both, and Oliver slid into his lap. He ran a hand up over Ethan’s neck, resting his fingers in the fine hairs at his nape, urging him to lean down for a kiss. Oliver pulled back. “You ready, handsome?”

Logan gave a little grumbly noise and laid on his stomach, burying his face in a recently fluffed pillow. He sank down slowly as the air left it. Then he spread his legs, ground down into the mattress.

Oliver snorted. Ethan stared, swallowing, then shuffled so he could lean back and bare his throat. Oliver used the angle to get a good grip on his hair, turning his head to the side. He scented Ethan up the side of his unmarked neck, then opened his mouth, the sharp points of his teeth pressing into the delicate skin, but not biting down.

Ethan placed a hand between Oliver’s shoulder blades in silent permission, and grunted when Oliver bit down. Oliver licked the wound gently, and Ethan pulled him close, shutting his eyes for a moment as he processed the new sensations.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, reveling in each other’s scent. Then they heard the soft, wet sounds of Logan finger-fucking himself.

“No,” they both said, turning in unison. Then they turned to look at each other, blinking.

Logan stopped, but whined pointedly. He licked his fingers, and Ethan looked at Oliver, begging.

Oliver got up, sat in front of Logan with his legs splayed on either side of his head. “Hey, brat,” he said, but he petted his hair fondly. “Any requests?”

“If someone doesn’t fuck me hard and deep right fucking now,” his muffled reply came from the pillow, “I might actually cry.”

“Get on your hands and knees,” Oliver ordered, and Logan hurried to comply.

Oliver looked over at Ethan. “Yes,” he said simply, and Ethan moved to settle himself between Logan’s legs, slid two fingers deep into his cunt without preamble, checking.

“No,” Logan whined, “no fuck me, I’m ready.”

Ethan moved up, leaning over him, rutting between his legs while Logan shivered. He gripped his hair hard, forcing his neck to the side, scenting him. Logan moaned, went a little wetter.

“Do you know how fucking good you smell right now?” Ethan growled, nosing over his bonding glands.

“Yes, please,” Logan said, trying to bare his throat as fully as he could.

“No,” Ethan said firmly. “Not yet. You’ll get it when I come inside you.” He balanced his weight on one hand, pumped his dick in the other. Then he lined up at Logan’s wet entrance, wrapped his arm around Logan’s waist, and pulled him back onto his dick in one rough movement.

Logan shouted. “Yes,” he babbled, “oh god, yes, please.”

Ethan growled, loud and serious, and fucked Logan hard with deep, rough grinding movements that couldn’t be mistaken as anything but him breeding his omega. He bit marks into Logan’s shoulders, his neck, anywhere but his bonding glands.

Logan panted, sobbed, braced himself on his hands and knees and took it so well that Oliver was praising him with a stream of growled, “Good boy, sweet boy, that’s it, take it, god you love it,” while he jerked himself off.

Ethan came with a strangled noise, his face buried in Logan’s neck, and bit him with a deep, possessive growl that gave Logan chills. He manhandled Logan onto his side, grumbling as he licked and nosed over the bite mark he made, a hand petting Logan’s stomach compulsively.

Oliver gently pillowed Logan’s head in his lap, reached his hand slowly towards Ethan. “Shh,” he said softly, running his fingers over Ethan’s marked neck. He was deep in instinct, giving possessive little growls as he checked Logan over, worked him to come on his knot. He eventually grew a little calmer as Logan settled, fucked-out and lazy, on Oliver’s lap.

Oliver pressed his fingers inside himself, marked Logan with his scent over Ethan’s bite. After a few minutes passed, before he’d even finished knotting, Ethan rolled Logan onto his hands and knees again. He’d been given permission to give in to his instincts, to breed Logan as roughly as he wanted, surrounded by the scent of his fertile and newly bonded mate.

He fucked Logan in breeding position again, nowhere near flagging, while Logan whined from the overstimulation. He’d lost his words now, relying on his dominants to understand his little hurt noises, his moans, his cries of pleasure. Ethan knotted him again, giving him a growl of approval, but didn’t roll him on his side to recover. He simply waited for his knot to go down, still hard from the rush of pheromones, deep in a breeding rut. Then he fucked into Logan again, supporting his small body as his hands shook from the effort of holding himself in position.

Oliver stopped his soft, commanding words of praise to leave the bed. He returned with a syringe, one he’d recently filled. It was difficult for a castrated omega to impregnate another omega, but not impossible; omegas didn’t rely on sperm, only reproductive genetic material. It was why heats took so much out of them; their bodies underwent a rapid hormonal shift, making the process of splicing and recombining genetic material more viable, their bodies more receptive.

“Shh,” Oliver said, approaching Ethan slowly from the side, running a hand down his sweat-covered back as he fucked into Logan. Ethan blinked at him, slowed.

Oliver ran his fingers around Logan’s opening, pressing one in gently beside Ethan’s cock. “Good boy,” he murmured as Logan braced himself, staying nice and open through the stretch. Oliver used his own slick to coat the syringe while Ethan fucked into Logan more slowly, not halting the deep grinding. Oliver pressed in, depressed the syringe, petted Logan’s flank. A trickle of Ethan’s cum ran down Logan’s leg when he withdrew, and he wiped at it with his fingers, pressing it back into Logan’s hole.

He moved forward to kiss Logan while Ethan knotted him again, finally moving Logan back down to rest. “Sweet boy,” Oliver said warmly while Logan let his head fall into Oliver’s lap, closing his eyes. Ethan followed, soft now but still inside Logan, and they all rested like that for a while.

*

Oliver left to get some water, fruit, crackers. Logan wasn’t likely to leave the bed for the remainder of his heat, and he ran a very real risk of passing out if Oliver didn’t at least force some sugar into him.

When he returned, Logan was propped up on the fluffed pillows, smiling down gently at Ethan where his head rested on Logan’s stomach, snuffling as he scented him.

“Hey, baby,” Oliver said warmly, sitting beside him with a bottle of water while he rested the food on the nightstand. Logan blinked at him softly, then snuggled into his side, sweet and pliant. Oliver snapped open the water and lifted it to Logan’s lips, eventually getting him to drink the entire bottle.

Oliver knew why Ethan was making odd snuffling noises every few seconds, laying kisses over Logan’s flat stomach. He could smell it when he walked in the room, that slight, heavier shift of Logan’s scent. It wouldn’t be noticeable yet, not to anyone that wasn’t mated to him, but Logan was undeniably pregnant, his body working hard to create the most viable genetic combination from the material it had been given.

Logan passed out in the safe circle of his arms within seconds, mouth slightly open, and Oliver smiled. “Sweet boy,” he said softly. Ethan moved up to press against Logan’s back, and soon his eyes were closed too. The angle of his neck showed off two fresh sets of bite marks, Oliver’s and Logan’s, overlapping one another. Oliver petted Logan’s soft, sweaty hair.

“We’re going to take such good care of you, baby boy,” Oliver whispered. “Don’t be scared. We’ll be right there with you.” He felt a warm flicker of Logan’s consciousness even in his sleep, a surge of protectiveness from Ethan, not quite asleep. Oliver smiled. “That’s right,” he said, “we’ll protect you, brave boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :3


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